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LALLA    ROOKH, 


(Diicutal  Uoiuauce. 


BY    THOMAS    MOORE. 


ILLUSTRATED  WITH  ENGRAVINGS 


DRAWINGS   BY  EMINENT    ARTISTS. 


NEW  YORK: 
L  E  A  Y  I  T  T    &    ALLEN, 


■t      '    ,  I   ^ 


'J  i  ^^"^9  i 


P({  ^0  ^^ 


iA- 


TO 


SAMUEL  HOGEUS,   ESQ. 


THIS  VOLUME  IS  DEDICATED, 


.HIS  TERY  GRATEFUL 


Al^D  AFFECTIONATE  FRIEND, 


THOMAS  MOORE. 


May  19, 1817. 


A  2 

err' 


«35're4-0 


CONTENTS 


■Pago 
PREFACE 13 

THE  VEILED  PROPHET  OF  KHORASSAN 39 

PARADISE  AND   IIIE  PEKl 150 

THE   FIRE-WORSHIPPERS  ••   •   133 

THE  LIGHT  OF  THE   IIARAM ^ » 29S 


LIST  OF   THE   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


LALLA  ROOIffl. 
B;  K.  Meadows.     {To  face  Title.) 

DEATH  OF  HINDA.     {Engraved  Title-page.) 
By  Edward  Corbould. 

«  One  wild  heart-broken  shriek  she  gave, 
Then  sprung,  as  if  to  reach  that  blaze, 
Where  still  she  fixed  her  dying  gaze, 
And,  gazing,  sunk  into  the  wave." 

The  Firc-ivorstiippers. 

ZELICA. 
By  Edward  Corbould. 

"  You  saw  her  pale  dismay, 


Ye  wondering  sisterhood,  and  heard  the  burst 
Of  exclamation  from  her  lips,  when  fust 
She  saw  that  youth,  too  well,  too  dearly  known, 
Silently  kneeling  at  the  Prophet's  throne." 

The  Veiled  Prophet  of  Khorassan,  p.  48. 


LIST    OF    THE    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


AZIM  AND  ZELTCA. 


By  Edward  Corbould. 


-"  Scarce  had  she  said 


These  breathless  words,  when  a  voice  deep  and  dread 

As  that  of  MoNKF-n,  waking  up  the  dead 

From  their  first  sleep — so  starthng  'twas  to  ':  ,)t!- 

Rung  through  the  casement  near,  '  Thy  oath !  thy  oath !'  " 

Tlie  Veiled  Prophet  of  Khorassan,  p.  102. 


ZELICA  DISCOVERING  THE  VEILED  PROPHET. 
By  Edward  Corboule.-. 


«  But  hark — she  stops — she  listens — dreadful  tone  ! 
'Tis  her  tormentor's  laugh — and  now,  a  groan." 

The  Veiled  Prophet  of  Khorassan,  p.  132. 


THE  PERI  AT  THE  GATE  OF  EDEN. 
By  K.  Meadows. 


«  One  morn  a  Peri  at  the  gate 
Of  Eden  stood,  disconsolate." 

Paradise  and  the  Peri,  p.  150. 


LIST    OF    THE    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


THE  PERI'S   FIRST   PILGRIMAGE. 

By  Edward  Corbould. 

« '  Nay,  turn  not  from  mc  that  dear  face — 
Am  I  not  thine — thy  own  loved  bride— 
The  one,  the  chosen  one,  whose  place 
In  life  or  death  is  by  thy  side  V  " 

Paradise  and  the  Peri,  p.  164, 


THE  PERI'S  SECOND  PILGRIMAGE 
By  Edward  Corbould. 

"Then  swift  his  haggard  brow  he  turned 
To  the  fair  child,  who  fearless  sat, 
Though  never  yet  hath  daybeam  burned 
Upon  a  brow  more  fierce  than  that." 

Paradise  and  the  Peri,  p.  170. 


THE  PARTING  OF  HINDA  AND  HAFED. 
By  T.  p.  Stepiianoff. 

"'My  dreams  have  boded  all  too  right — 
We  part — for  ever  part — to-night ! 
I  knew,  I  knew  it  cmdd  not  last — 
'Twas  bright,  'twas  heavenly,  but  'tis  pist !' " 

TJie  Fire-worshippers,  p.  200. 


Xil  LIST    OF    THE    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

THE  DEPARTURE  OF  HAFED. 
Bv  Edward  Corbould. 

"  Fiercely  he  broke  a'S'ay,  nor  stopped, 
Nor  looked — but  frctm  the  lattice  dropped 
Down  mid  the  pointed  crags  beneath, 
As  if  he  fled  from  love  to  death." 

Tlie  Firc-wor-'^hippers,  p.  207 

HINDA. 
Bv  T.  P.  Stephanoff. 

«  And  watch,  and  look  along  the  deep 
For  him  whose  smiles  first  made  her  weep." 

TIte  Fire-worshippen,  p.  229. 

NAMOUNA, 
By  K.  Meadows. 
"  Her  glance 


Spoke  something,  pa.st  all  mortal  pleasures, 

As,  in  a  kind  of  holy  trance. 

She  hung  above  those  fragrant  treasures, 

Bending  to  drink  their  balmy  airs, 

As  if  she  mixed  her  soul  with  theirs." 

The  Light  of  the  Haram,  p.  315. 


NOURMAHAL  ASLEEP. 
By  T.  p.  Stephanoff. 

«  No  sooner  was  the  flowery  crown 
Placed  on  her  head,  than  sleep  came  down. 
Gently  as  nights  of  summer  fall, 
Upon  the  lids  of  Nourmahal." 

The  Light  of  the  Haram,  p.  318. 


PREFACE. 


The  Poem,  or  Romance,  of  Lalla  Rookh,  having 
now  reached,  I  understand,  its  twentieth  edition,  a  short 
account  of  the  origin  and  progress  of  a  work  which  has 
been  hitherto  so  very  fortunate  in  its  course,  may  not  be 
deemed,  perhaps,  superfluous  or  misplaced. 

It  was  about  the  year  1812  that,  far  more  through  the 
encouraging  suggestions  of  friends  than  from  any  confident 
promptings  of  my  own  ambition,  I  conceived  the  design 
of  ^^Titing  a  Poem  upon  some  Oriental  subject,  and  of 
those  quarto  dimensions  which  Scott's  successful  publications 
in  that  form  had  then  rendered  the  regular  poetical  standard. 
A  negotiation  on  the  subject  was  opened  with  the  Messrs. 
Longman,  in  the  same  year;  but,  from  some  causes  which 
I  cannot  now  recollect,  led  to  no  decisive  result;  nor 
was  it  till  a  year  or  two  after,  that  any  further  steps  were 
taken  in  the  matter, — their  house  being  the  only  one,  it 
is  right  to  add,  with  which,  from  first  to  last,  I  held  any 
communication  upon  the  subject. 

On  this  last  occasion,  Mr.  Perry  kindly  offered  himself 
as  my  representative  in  the  treaty ;  and,  what  with  tlie 
friendly  zeal   of  ray   negotiator   on   the   one   side,   and   thr 


14  PREFACE. 


pi  01  apt  and  liberal  spirit  with  which  he  was  met  on  the 
other,  there  has  seldom,  I  think,  occurred  any  transaction 
in  which  Trade  and  Poesy  have  shone  out  so  advanta- 
geously in  each  other's  eyes.  The  short  discussion  that 
then  took  place,  between  the  two  parties,  may  be  com 
prised  in  a  very  few  sentences.  "I  am  of  opinion,"  said 
Mr.  Perry, — enforcing  his  view  of  the  case  by  arguments 
which  it  is  not  for  me  to  cite, — "that  Mr.  Moore  ought 
to  receive  for  his  Poem  the  lai'gest  price  that  has  been 
given,  in  our  day,  for  such  a  work."  "That  was," 
answered  the  Messrs.  Longman,  "three  thousand  guineas." 
"  Exactly  so,"  replied  Mr.  Perry,  "and  no  less  a  sum  ought 
he  to  receive." 

It  was  then  objected,  and  very  reasonably,  on  the  part 
of  the  firm,  that  they  had  never  yet  seen  a  single  line  of 
the  Poem ;  and  that  a  perusal  of  the  work  ought  to  be 
allowed  to  them,  before  they  embarked  so  large  a  sum  in 
the  purchase.  But,  no ; — the  romantic  view  which  my 
friend,  Perry,  took  of  the  matter,  was,  that  this  price  should 
be  given  as  a  tribute  to  reputation  already  acquired,  without 
any  condition  for  a  previous  perusal  of  the  new  work. 
This  high  tone,  I  must  confess,  not  a  little  startled  and 
alarmed  me ;  but,  to  the  honour  and  glory  of  Romance, — 
as  well  on  the  publishers'  side  as  the  poet's, — this  very 
generous  view  of  the  transaction  was,  without  any  difficulty, 
acceded  to,  and  the  firm  agreed,  before  we  separated, 
tnat  I  was  to  receive  three  thousand  guineas  for  my  Poem. 


PREFACE.  15 


At  the  time  of  this  agreement,  but  httle  of  the  work, 
as  it  stands  at  present,  had  yet  been  written.  But  the  ready 
confidence  of  my  success  shown  by  others,  made  up  for 
the  deficiency  of  that  requisite  feehng,  within  myself,  while 
a  strong  desire  not  wholly  to  disappoint  this  "auguring 
hope,"  became  almost  a  substitute  for  inspiration.  In  the 
year  1815,  therefore,  having  made  some  progress  in  my 
task,  I  wrote  to  report  the  state  of  the  work  to  the  Messrs. 
Longman,  adding,  that  I  was  now  most  willing  and  ready, 
should  they  desire  it,  to  submit  the  manuscript  for  theii 
consideration.  Their  answer  to  this  offer  was  as  follows : — 
"  We  are  certainly  impatient  for  the  perusal  of  the  Poem ; 
but  solely  for  our  gratification.  Your  sentiments  are  always 
honourable."  * 

I  continued  to  pursue  my  task  for  another  year,  being 
likewise  occasionally  occupied  with  the  Irish  Melodies, 
two  or  three  numbers  of '  which  made  their  appearance, 
during  the  period  employed  in  writing  Lalla  Rookh.  At 
length,  in  the  year  1816,  I  found  my  work  sufficiently 
advanced  to  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  publishers. 
But  the  state  of  distress  to  which  England  was  reduced, 
in  that  dismal  year,  by  the  exliausting  effects  of  the  series 
of  wars  she  had  just  then  concluded,  and  the  general  em- 
barrassment of  all  classes,  both  agricultural  and  commercial, 
rendered  it  a  juncture  the  least  favourable  that  could  wel 


»  April  10,  1815. 


16  PREFACE. 


be  conceived  for  the  first  launch  into  print  of  so  light  and 
costly  a  venture  as  Lalla  Rookh.  Feeling  conscious,  there- 
fore, that,  under  such  circumstances,  I  should  act  but 
honestly  in  putting  it  in  the  power  of  the  Messrs.  Longman 
to  reconsider  the  terms  of  their  engagement  with  me,— 
leaving  them  free  to  po;rtpone,  modify,  or  even,  should  such 
be  their  wish,  relinquish  it  altogether,  I  WTote  them  a  letter 
to  that  effect,  and  received  the  following  answer : — "  We 
shall  be  most  happy  in  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  in 
February.  We  agree  with  you,  indeed,  that  the  times  are 
most  inauspicious  for  '  poetry  and  thousands  ;'  but  we  believe 
that  your  poetry  would  do  more  than  that  of  any  other  living 
poet  at  the  present  moment."'' 

The  length  of  time  I  employed  in  writing  the  few  stories 
strung  together  in  Lalla  Rookh  will  appear,  to  some  persons, 
much  more  than  was  necessary  for  the  production  of  such 
easy  and  "  light  o'  love"  fictions.  But,  besides  that  I  have 
been,  at  all  times,  a  far  more  slow  and  painstaking  w^orkman 
than-  would  ever  be  guessed,  I  fear,  from  the  .result,  I  felt 
that,  in  this  instance,  I  had  taken  upon  myself  a  more  than 
ordinary  responsibility,  from  the  immense  stake  risked  by 
others  on  my  chance  of  success.  For  a  long  time,  therefore, 
afler  the  agreement  had  been  concluded,  though  generally 
at  work  with  a  view  to  this  task,  I  made  but  very  little  real 
progress   in   it ;   and  I  have  still  by  me  the  beginnings  of 

»  November  9,  1816. 


PREFACE.  17 

several  siones,  continued,  some  of  Ihem,  to  the  length  of 
three  or  four  hunch'ed  Hues,  which,  after  in  vain  endeavouring 
to  mould  them  into  shape,  I  threw  aside,  like  the  tale  of 
Cambuscan,  "  k-ft  haU-tokl."  One  of  these  stories,  entitled 
I'he  Peri's  Daughter,  was  meant  to  relate  the  loves  of  a 
nymph  of  this  aerial  extraction  with  a  youth  of  mortal  race, 
the  rightful  Prince  of  Ormuz,  who  had  been,  from  his  infancy, 
brought  up,  in  seclusion,  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Amou, 
by  an  aged  guardian  named  Mohassan.  The  story  opens 
with  the  first  meeting  of  these  destined  lovers,  then  in 
their  childhood ;  the  Peri  having  wafted  her  daughter  to 
diis  holy  retreat,  in  a  bright,  enchanted  boat,  whose  first 
appearance  is  thus  described : — 


For,  down  the  silvery  tide  afar, 
There  came  a  boat,  as  swift  and  bright 

As  shines,  in  heaven,  some  pilgrim-star, 
That  leaves  its  own  high  home,  at  night. 
To  shoot  to  distant  shrines  of  light. 

« It  comes,  it  comes,"  3'oung  Orian  cries, 
And  panting  to  Mohassan  flies. 
Then  down  upon  the  flowery  grass 
Reclines  to  see  the  vision  pass ; 
With  partly  joy  and  partly  fear, 
To  find  its  wondrous  light  so  near, 
And  hiding  oft  his  dazzled  eyes 
Among  the  flowers  on  which  he  lies. 

Within  the  boat  a  baby  sk;it, 
Like  a  young  pearl  within  its  shell ; 
While  one,  who  seemed  of  riper  years. 
But  not  of  earth,  or  earthhke  spheres. 
Her  watch  beside  the  slumberer  kept ; 


19  PK  E  F  A  CE. 


Gracefully  waving,  in  her  hand, 
I'he  feathers  of  some  holy  bird, 
With  which,  from  time  to  time,  she  stirred 

The  fragrant  air,  and  coolly  fanned 

The  baby's  brow,  or  brushed  away 
The  butterflies  that,  bright  and  blue 

As  on  the  mountains  of  Malay, 
Around  the  sleeping  infant  flew. 

And  now  the  fau-y  boat  hath  stopped 
Beside  the  bank, — the  nymph  has  dropped 
Her  golden  anchor  in  the  stream ; 


A  song  is  sung  by  the  Peri  in  approaching,  of  which  the 
following  forms  a  part : — 


My  child  she  is  but  half  divine ; 
Her  father  sleeps  in  the  Caspian  water ; 
Sea-weeds  twine 
His  funeral  shrine, 
But  he  lives  again  in  the  Peri's  daughter. 
Fain  would  I  fly  from  mortal  sight 

To  my  own  sweet  bowers  of  Peristan 
But  there,  the  flowers  are  all  too  bright 
J'or  the  eyes  of  a  baby  born  of  man. 
On  flowers  of  earth  her  feet  must  tread ; 

So  hither  my  light-winged  bark  hath  brought  her ; 
Stranger,  spread 
Thy  leafiest  bed, 
To  rest  the  wandering  Peri's  daughter. 

In  another  of  these  inchoate  fragments,  a  proud  female 
samt^  named  Banou,  plays  a  principal  part,  and  her  progress 
through  the  streets  of  Cufa,  on  the  night  of  a  great  illumi- 
nated festival,  I  find  thus  described :-  - 


PREFACE. 


It  was  a  scene  of  mirth  that  drew 
A  smile  from  even  the  Saint  Banou, 
As,  through  the  hushed,  admiring  throng. 
She  went  with  stately  steps  along, 
And  counted  o'er,  that  all  might  see, 
The  rubies  of  her  rosary. 
But  none  might  see  the  worldly  smile 
That  lurked  beneath  her  veil,  the  while : — 
Alia  forbid !  for,  who  would  wait 
Her  blessing  at  the  temple's  gate, — 
What  holy  man  would  ever  run 
To  Iciss  the  ground  she  knelt  upon, 
If  once,  by  luckless  chance,  he  knew 
She  looked  and  smiled  as  others  do  ] 
Her  hands  were  joined,  and  from  each  wrist 
By  threads  of  pearl  and  golden  twist 
Hung  relics  of  the  saints  of  yore, 
And  scraps  of  talismanic  lore, — 
Charms  for  the  old,  the  sick,  the  frail, 
Some  made  for  use,  and  all  for  sale. 
On  either  side,  the  crowd  withdrew. 
To  let  the  Saint  pass  proudly  through ; 
While  turbaned  heads,  of  every  hue. 
Green,  white,  and  crimson,  bowed  around. 
And  gay  tiaras  touched  the  ground, — 
As  tulip-bells,  when  o'er  their  beds 
The  musk-wind  passes,  bend  their  heads. 
Nay,  some  there  were,  among  the  crowd 
Of  Moslem  heads  that  round  her  bowed, 
So  filled  with  zeal,  by  many  a  draught 
Of  Shiraz  wine  profanely  quaffed, 
That,  sinking  low  in  reverence  then, 
They  never  rose  till  morn  again. 

There  are  yet  two  more  of  these  unfinished  sketches,  one 
of  which  extends  to  a  much  greater  length  than  I  was  aware 
of;  and,  as  far  as  I  can  judge  from  a  hasty  renewal  of  my 
acquaintance  with  it,  it  is  not  incapable  of  being  yet  turned 
to  account. 


20  PREFACE. 


In  only  one  of  these  unfinitilied  sketches,  the  tale  of  The 
Peri's  Daughter,  had  I  yet  ventured  to  invoke  that  most 
homefelt  of  all  my  inspirations,  which  has  lent  to  the  story  of 
The  Fire-worshippers  its  main  attraction  and  interest.  That 
t  was  my  intention,  in  the  concealed  Prince  of  Ormuz,  to 
shadow  out  some  impersonation  of  this  feeling,  I  take  for 
granted  from  the  prophetic  words  supposed  to  be  addressed 
to  him  by  his  aged  guardian  : — 


Bright  child  of  destiny  !  even  now 
I  read  the  promise  on  that  brow, 
That  tyrants  shall  no  more  defile 
The  glories  of  the  Green-Sea  Isle, 
But  Ormuz  shall  again  be  free, 
And  hail  her  native  Lord  in  thee  ! 


In  none  of  the  other  fragments  do  I  find  any  trace  of  this 
sort  of  feeling,  either  in  the  subject  or  the  personages  of  the 
intended  story ;  and  this  was  the  reason,  doubtless,  though 
hardly  known,  at  the  time,  to  myself,  that,  finding  my  subjects 
so  slow  in  kindling  my  own  sympathies,  I  began  to  despair 
of  their  ever  touching  the  hearts  of  others;  and  felt  often 
inclined  to  say, 

"  O  no,  I  have  no  voice  or  hand 
For  such  a  song,  in  such  a  land." 

Had  this  series  of  disheartening  experiments  been  carried 
on  much  further,  I  must  have  thrown  aside  the  work  in 
despair.  But,  at  last,  fortunately,  as  it  proved,  the  thought 
occurred  to  me  of  founding  a  story  on  the  fierce  struggle  so 


PREFACE.  21 

long  maintd  ned  between  the  Ghebers,"  or  ancient  Fire-wor- 
shippers of  Persia,  and  their  haughty  Moslem  masters.  From 
that  moment,  a  new  and  deep  interest  in  my  whole  task  took 
possession  of  me.  The  cause  of  tolerance  was  again  my 
inspiring  theme  ;  and  the  spirit  that  had  spoken  in  the  melo- 
dies of  Ireland  soon  found  itself  at  home  in  the  East. 

Having  thus  laid  open  the  secrets  of  the  workshop  to 
account  for  the  time  expended  in  writing  this  work,  I  must 
also,  in  justice  to  my  own  industry,  notice  the  pains  I  took 
in  long  and  laboriously  reading  for  it.  To  form  a  store- 
house, as  it  were,  of  illustration  purely  Oriental,  and  so 
familiarize  myself  with  its  various  treasures,  that,  as  quick  as 
Fancy  required  the  aid  of  fact,  in  her  spiritings,  the  memory 
was  ready,  like  another  Ariel,  at  her  "  strong. bidding,"  to 
furnish  materials  for  the  spell-work, — such  was,  for  a  long 
while,  the  sole  object  of  my  studies ;  and  whatever  time  and 
trouble  this  preparatory  process  may  have  cost  me,  the  effects 
resulting  from  it,  as  far  as  the  humble  merit  of  truthfulness  is 
concerned,  ha^'e  been  such  as  to  repay  me  more  than  suffi- 
ciently for  my  pains.  I  have  not  forgotten  how  great  was  my 
pleasure,  when  told  by  the  late  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  that  he 

was  once  asked  by  Colonel  W s,  the  historian  of  British 

India,  "whether  it  was  true  that  Moore  had  never  been  m  the 
East."     "Never,"    answered    Mackintosh.      "Well,     that 

*  Voltaire,  in  his  tragedy  of  "  Les  Guebres,"  written  with  a  similar  undei 
current  of  meaning,  was  accuserl  of  having  transformed  his  Fire-worshippers 
into  Jansenists: — "Quelqucs  figuristes,"  he  says,  "prutendent  que  les  Guebies 
3ont  les  Jansenistes." 


22  PREFACE. 

shows  me,"  replied  Colonel  W s,    "tJiat   reading   ove? 

D'Herbelot  is  as  good  as  riding  on  the  back  of  a  camel." 

I  need  hardly  subjoin  to  this  lively  speech,  that  although 
D'Herbelot's  valuable  work  was,  of  course,  one  of  my  ma- 
nuals, I  took  the  whole  range  of  all  such  Oriental  reading  as 
was  accessible  to  me ;  and  became,  for  the  time,  indeed,  far 
more  conversant  with  all  relating  to  that  distant  region,  than  I 
have  ever  been  with  the  scenery,  productions,  or  modes  of  life 
of  any  of  those  countries  lying  most  within  my  reach.  We 
know  that  D'AnviEe,  though  never  in  his  life  out  of  Paris, 
was  able  to  correct  a  number  of  errors  in  a  plan  of  the  Troad 
taken  by  De  Choiseul,  on  the  spot ;  and,  for  my  own  very 
different,  as  well  as  far  inferior,  purposes,  the  knowledge  I 
had  thus  acquired  of  distant  localities,  seen  only  by  me  in  my 
day-dreams,  was  no  less  ready  and  useful. 

An  ample  reward  for  all  this  painstaking  has  been  found 
in  such  welcome  tributes  as  I  have  just  now  cited ;  nor  can  I 
deny  myself  the  gratification  of  citing  a  few  more  of  the  same 
description.  From  another  distinguished  authority  on  Eastern 
subjects,  the  late  Sir  John  Malcolm,  I  had  myself  the  pleasure 
of  hearing  a  similar  opinion  publicly  expressed ; — that  eminent 
person,  in  a  speech  spoken  by  him  at  a  Literary  Fund  Dinner, 
having  remarked,  that  together  with  those  qualities  of  the  poet 
which  he  much  too  partially  assigned  to  me,  was  combined 
also  "the  truth  of  the  historian." 

Sir  Wilham  Ouseley  another  high  authority,  in  giving  his 
testimony  to  the  same  effect,  thus  notices  an  exception  to  the 


PREFACE.  33 


general  accuracy  for  which  he  gives  me  credit : — "  Dazzled  by 
the  beauties  of  this  composition,*  few  readers  can  perceive, 
and  none  surely  can  regret,  that  the  poet,  in  his  magnificent 
catastrophe,  has  forgotten,  or  boldly  and  most  happily  violated, 
the  precept  of  Zoroaster,  above  noticed,  which  held  it  impious 
to  consume  any  portion  of  a  human  body  by  fire,  especially  by 
that  which  glowed  upon  their  altars."  Having  long  lost,  I  fear, 
most  of  my  Eastern  learning,  I  can  only  cite,  in  defence  of  my 
catastrophe,  an  old  Oriental  tradition,  which  relates,  that  Nim- 
rod,  when  Abraliam  refused,  at  his  command,  to  worship  the 
fire,  ordered  him  to  be  thrown  into  the  midst  of  the  flames.'' 
A  precedent  so  ancient  for  this  sort  of  use  of  tl^  worshipped 
element,  v.-ould  appear,  for  all  purposes  at  least  of  poetry, 
fully  sufficient. 

In  addition  to  these  agreeable  testimonies,  I  have  also 
heai'd,  and  need  hardly  add,  with  some  pride  and  pleasure, 
that  parts  of  this  work  have  been  rendered  into  Persian,  and 
have  found  their  way  to  Ispahan.  To  this  fact,  as  I  am 
willing  to  think  it,  allusion  is  made  in  some  lively  verses, 
written  many  years  since,  by  my  friend,  Mr.  Luttrell : — 

"I'm  told,  dear  Moore,  your  lays  are  sung, 
(Can  it  be  true,  you  lucky  man  ?) 
By  moonlight,  in  the  Persian  tongue, 
Along  the  streets  of  Ispahan." 


»  The  Fire-worshippers. 

^  Tradunt  autem  Hebrcei  hanc  fabulam  quod  Abraham  in  ignem  missus  bii 
luia  ignem  adorare  noluit. — St.  Hiehox.  in  qiuest.  i:i  Genesm. 


Z4  PREFACE. 


That  some  knowledge  of  the  work  may  ha\^e  really  reached 
that  region,  appears  not  improbable  from  a  passage  in  the 
Travels  of  Mr.  Frazer,  who  says,  that  "  being  delayed  for 
some  time  at  a  town  on  the  shores  of  the  Caspian,  he  was 
lucky  enough  to  be  able  to  amuse  himself  wdth  a  copy  of 
Lalla  Rookh,  w^iich  a  Persian  had  lent  him." 

Of  the  description  of  Balbec,  in  "Paradise  and  the  Peri," 
Mr.  Carne,  in  his  Letters  from  the  East,  thus  speaks :  "  The 
description  in  Lalla  Rookh  of  the  plain  and  its  ruins  is 
exquisitely  faithful.  The  minaret  is  on  the  declivity  near  at 
hand,  and  there  wanted  only  the  muezzin's  cry  to  break 
the  silence." 

I  shall  now  tax  my  reader's  patience  with  but  one  more 
of  these  generous  vouchers.  Whatever  of  vanity  there  may 
be  in  citing  such  tributes,  they  show^,  at  least,  of  what  great 
value,  even  in  poetry,  is  that  prosaic  quality,  industry ; 
since,  as  the  reader  of  the  foregoing  pages  is  now  fully  ap- 
prized, it  was  in  a  slow  and  laborious  collection  of  small 
facts,  that  the  first  foundations  of  this  fanciful  Romance 
were  laid. 

The  friendly  testimony  I  have  just  referred  to,  appeared, 
some  years  since,  in  the  form  in  which  I  now  give  it,  and, 
if  I  recollect  right,  in  the  Athenaeum : — 

"  I  embrace  this  opportunity  of  bearing  my  individual 
testimony  (if  it  be  of  any  value)  to  the  extraordinary  accuracy 
of  Mr.  ^loore,  m  his  topographical,  antiquarian,  and  charac 


PREFACE.  35 

teristic  details,  whether  of  costume,  manners,  or  less-changing 
monuments,  both  in  his  Lalla  Rookh  and  in  the  Epicurean. 
It  has  been  my  fortune  to  read  his  Atlantic,  Bermudean,  ana 
American  Odes  and  Epistles,  in  the  countries  and  among  the 
people  to  which  and  to  whom  they  related ;  1  enjoyed  also 
the  exquisite  delight  of  reading  his  Lalla  Rookh,  in  Persia 
itself;  and  I  have  perused  the  Epicurean,  while  all  my  recol- 
lections of  Egypt  and  its  still  existing  wonders  are  as  fresh  as 
when  I  quitted  the  banks  of  the  Nile  for  Arabia ; — I  owe  it, 
therefore,  as  a  debt  of  gratitude,  (though  the  payment  is  most 
inadequate,)  for  the  great  pleasure  I  have  derived  from  his 
productions,  to  bear  my  humble  testimony  to  their  local 
fidelity.  J.  S.  B." 

Among  the  incidents  connected  with  this  Ai'ork,  I  must 
not  omit  to  notice  the  splendid  Divertissement,  founded  upon 
it,  which  was  acted  at  the  Chateau  Royal  of  Berlin,  during 
the  visit  of  the  Grand  Duke  Nicholas  to  that  capital,  in  the 
year  1822.  The  different  stories  composing  the  work  were 
represented  in  Tableaux  Vivans  and  songs ;  and  among  the 
crowd  of  royal  and  noble  personages  engaged  in  the  per- 
formances, I  shall  mention  those  only  who  represented  the 
principal  characters,  and  whom  I  find  thus  enumerated  in  the 
published  account  of  the  Divertissement. *  * 


»  li.alla  Roukh,  Divertissement  mele  de  Chants  et  do  Danses,  Berlin,  J822. 
The  work  contains  a  series  of  coloured  engravings,  representing  groups,  pro- 
cessions, &c.,  in  different  Oriental  costumes. 

C 


26  PREFACE. 


'  Fadladin,  Grand-Nasir,    .     .     .  Comte  Haack,  (Marechal  de  Coiir.) 

Aliris,  Roi  tie  Bucharie,  ...  S.  ^.  I.  Le  Grand  Due. 

Lallah  Rofikh, S.Jl.I.La  Grand  Duchcsse. 

Aurungzeb,  le  Grand  Mogol,     .  S.  Jl.  H.  Le  Prince  GuiUanme,fre'c  du  I\oi. 

Abdallah,  Pere  d' Aliris,  .     .     .  S.^.  R.  Le  Due  de  Cumberland. 

La  Reine,  sm  t-pouse,     .     .     .  S.  A.  R.  La  Princcsse  Louise  Radzivili." 


Besides  these  and  oth^r  leading  personages,  there  were 
also  brought  into  action,  under  the  various  denominations 
of  Seigneurs  et  Dames  de  Bucharie,  Dames  de  Cachemire, 
Seigneurs  et  Dames  dansans  a  la  Fete  des  Roses,  &c.,  nearly 
one  hundred  and  fifty  persons. 

Of  the  manner  and  style  in  which  the  Tableaux  of  the 
different  stories  are  described  in  the  work  from  which  I  cite, 
the  following  account  of  the  performance  of  Paradise  and  the 
Peri  will  afford  some  specimen  : — 

"  La  decoration  representoit  les  portes  brillantes  du 
Paradis,  entourees  de  nuages.  Dans  le  premier  tableau  on 
voyoit  la  Peri,  triste  et  desolce,  couchee  sur  le  seuil  des  portes 
fermees,  et  I'Ange  de  lumiere  qui  lui  adresse  des  consolations 
et  des  conseils.  Le  second  represente  le  moment,  ou  la  Peri, 
dans  I'espoir  que  ce  don  lui  ouvrira  Fentree  du  Paradis 
recueille  la  derniere  goutte  de  sang  que  vient  de  verser  le 
jeune  guerrier  Indien 

"  La  Peri  et  I'Ange  de  lumiere  repondoient  pleinement  a 
I'lmage  et  a  I'idee  qu'on  est  tente  de  se  faire  de  ces  deux 
mdividus,  et  I'impression  qu'a  faite  generalement  la  suite  des 
tableaux  de  cet  episode  delicat  et  interessant  est  loin  de 
s'efTacer  de  notre  souvenir." 


PREFACE.  27 


In  tills  gi-and  Fete  it  appears,  originated  the  translation 
of  Lalla  Rookti  into  German  verse,  by  the  Baron  de  la  Motte 
Fouque ;  and  the  circumstances  \vhich  led  him  to  undertake 
the  task,  are  described  by  himself,  in  a  Dedicatory  Poem  to 
the  Empress  of  Russia,  which  he  has  prefixed  to  his  transla- 
tion. As  soon  as  the  performance,  he  tells  us,  had  ended, 
Lalla  Rookli  (the  Empress  herself)  exclaimed,  with  a  sigh, 
"Is  it,  then,  all  over?  are  we  now  at  the  close  of  all  that  has 
given  us  so  much  delight  ?  and  lives  there  no  poet  who  will 
impart  to  others,  and  to  future  times,  some  notion  of  the 
happiness  we  have  enjoyed  this  evening?"  On  hearing  this 
appeal,  tlie  Knight  of  Cashmere  (who  is  no  other  than  the 
poetical  Bai'on  himself)  comes  forward  and  promises  to 
attempt  to  present  to  the  world  "the  Poem  itself  in  the 
measure  of  the  original :" — whereupon  Lalla  Rookh,  it  13 
added,  approvingly  smiled. 


LALLA  EOOKH. 


In  the  eleventh  year  of  the  reign  of  Aurungzebe,  Abdalla, 
K  jg  of  the  Lesser  Bucharia,  a  Hneal  descendant  from  the 
G.eat  Zingis,  having  abdicated  the  throne  in  favour  of  his  son, 
set  out  on  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Shrine  of  the  Prophet ;  and, 
passing  into  India  through  the  delightful  valley  of  Cashmere_, 
rested  for  a  short  time  at  Delhi '  on  his  way.  He  was  enter 
tained  by  Aurungzebe  in  a  style  of  magnificent  hospitality, 
worthy  alike  of  the  visiter  and  the  host,  and  was  afterwards 
escorted  M-ith  the  same  splendour  to  Surat,  where  he  embarked 
for  Arabia.*  During  the  sta}'  of  the  Royal  Pilgrim  at  Delhi,  a 
marriage  w?.s  agreed  upon  between  the  Prince,  his  son,  and 
the  youngest  daughter  of  the  Emperor,  Lalla  Rookh;' — a 
Prmcess  described  by  the  poets  of  her  time  as  more  beautiful 


•These  particulars  of  the  \'isit  of  the  King  of  Bucharia  to  Aurungzebe  are 
found  in  Daw's  History  of  Hindostaii,  vol.  iii.  p.  392. 
'I  Tulip  cheek. 

c2  90 


30  LALLA    ROOKH. 


than  Leila,"  Sliirine,"  Dewilde,"  or  any  of  those  heromes  whose 
names  and  loves  embellish  the  songs  of  Persia  and  Hindostan. 
It  was  intended  that  the  nuptials  should  be  celebrated  at 
Cashmere ;  W'here  the  young  King,  as  soon  as  the  cares  of 
empire  would  permit,  was  to  meetj  for  the  first  time,  his  lovely 
bride,  and,  after  a  few  months'  repose  in  that  enchanting 
valley,  conduct  her  over  the  snowy  hills  into  Bucharia. 

The  day  of  Lalla  Rookh's  departure  from  Delhi  was  as 
splendid  as  sunshine  and  pageantry  could  make  it.  Tht 
bazaars  and  baths  were  all  covered  with  the  richest  tapestry ; 
hundreds  of  gilded  barges  upon  the  Jumna  floated  wath  their 
banners  shining  in  the  water ;  while  through  the  streets  groups 
of  beautiful  children  went  strewing  the  most  delicious  floweis 
around,  as  in  that  Persian  festival  called  the  Scattering  of  the 
Roses  ;*  till  every  part  of  the  city  was  as  fragrant  as  if  a 
caravan  of  musk  from  Khoten  had  passed  through  it.  The 
Princess,  having  taken  leave  of  her  kind  father,  who  at  parting 
hung  a  cornelian  of  Yemen  round  her  neck,  on  which  was 
inscribed  a  verse  from  the  Koran,  and  having  sent  a  consider- 
able present  to  the  Fakirs,  who  kept  up  the  Perpetual  Lamp 
in  her  sister's  tomb,  meekly  ascended  the  palankeen  prepared 

*  The  mistrefes  of  Mcjnoun,  upon  whose  story  so  many  Romances  in  all  the 
languages  of  the  East  are  founded. 

b  For  the  loves  of  this  celebrated  beauty  with  Khosrou  and  with  Ferhad,  see 
D^Herbclot,  Gibbon,  Oriental  Collections,  &c. 

<= "  The  history  of  the  loves  of  Dewilde  and  Chizer,  the  son  of  the  Emperor 
Alia,  is  written  in  an  elegant  poem,  by  the  noble  Chusero." — Ferishta. 

^  Gul  Reazee. 


L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H.  31 


for  her ;  and,  while  Aurungzebe  stood  to  take  a  last  look  from 
his  balcony,  the  procession  moved  slowly  on  the  road  to 
Liiliore. 

Seldom  had  the  Eastern  world  seen  a  cavalcade  so  superb. 
From  the  gardens  in  the  suburbs  to  the  Imperial  palace,  it 
was  one  unbroken  line  of  splendour.  The  gallant  appearance 
of  the  Rajahs  and  Mogul  lords,  distinguished  by  those  insignia 
of  the  Emperor's  favour,"  the  feathers  of  the  egret  of  Cash- 
mere, in  their  turbans,  and  the  small  silver-rimmed  kettle-drums 
at  the  bows  of  their  saddles  ; — the  costly  armour  of  their  cava- 
liers, who  vied,  on  this  occasion,  with  the  guards  of  the  great 
Keder  Khan,*"  in  the  brightness  of  their  silver  battle-axes  and 
the  massiness  of  their  maces  of  gold  ; — the  glittering  of  the  gilt 
pine-apples"  on  the  tops  of  the  palankeens ; — the  embroidered 


'"One  mark  of  honour  or  kniglithood  bestowed  by  the  Emperor  is  the 
permission  to  wear  a  small  kettle-drum  at  the  bows  of  their  saddles,  which  at 
first  was  invented  for  the  training  of  hawks,  and  to  call  them  to  the  lure,  and  is 
worn  in  the  field  by  all  sportsmen  to  that  end." — Frycr^s  Travels. 

« I'hose  on  whom  the  King  has  conferred  the  privilege  must  wear  an  orna- 
ment of  jewels  on  the  right  side  of  the  turban,  surmounted  by  a  high  plume  of 
the  feathers  of  a  kind  of  egret.  This  bird  is  found  only  in  Cashmere,  and  the 
feathers  are  carefully  collected  for  the  King,  who  bestows  them  on  his  nobles.'' — 
Elphinsfone's  Account  of  Caubul. 

'' "  Khedar  Khan,  the  Khakan,  or  King  of  Turquestan  beyond  me  Gihon, 
(at  the  end  of  the  eleventh  century,)  whenever  he  appeared  abroad,  was  pre- 
ceded by  seven  hundred  horsemen  with  silver  battle-axes,  and  was  followed  by  an 
eaual  number  bearing  maces  of  gold.  He  was  a  great  patron  of  poetry,  and  it 
was  he  who  used  to  preside  at  public  exercises  of  genius,  with  four  basins  of 
gold  and  silver  b)^  him  to  distribute  among  the  poets  who  excelled." — Richard' 
som's  Dissertation  prefixed  to  his  Dictionary. 

«  "  The  kubdeh,  a  large  golden  knob,  generally  in  the  shape  of  a  pine-apple, 


32  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 


trappings  of  the  elephants,  bearing  on  their  backs  small  turrets, 
in  the  shape  of  little  antique  temples,  Avithin  which  the  Ladies 
of  Lalla  Rookii  lay  as  it  were  enshrined  ; — the  rose-coloured 
veils  of  the  Princess's  own  sumptuous  litter,"  at  the  front  of 
which  a  fair  young  female  slave  sat  fanning  her  through 
the  curtains,  with  feathers  of  the  Argus  pheasant's  wing;'' — 
and  the  lovely  troop  of  Tartarian  and  Cashmerian  nmids  of 
honour,  whom  the  young  King  had  sent  to  accompany  Iiis 
bride,  and  who  rode  on  each  side  of  the  litter,  upon  small 
Arabian  horses; — all  was  brilliant,  tasteful,  and  magnificent, 
and  pleased  even  the  critical  and  fastidious  Fadladeen, 
Great  Nazir  or  Chamberlain  of  the  Haram,  who  was  borne 
in  his  palankeen  immediately  after  the  Princess,  and  con- 
sidered himself  not  the  least  important  personage  of  the 
pageant. 

Fadladeen  was  a  judge  of  every  thing, — from  the  pencil- 
ling  of  a  Circassian's  eyelids  to   the    deepest  questions  of 

on  the  top  of  the  canopy  over  the  litter  or  palanquin." — Scotl's  Notes  on  the 
Bahardanush. 

a  In  the  Poem  of  Zohair,  in  the  Moallakat,  there  is  the  following  lively  de 
scription  of  "  a  company  of  maidens  seated  on  camels." 

"They  are  mounted  in  carriages  covered  with  costly  awnings,  and  with 
rose-coloured  veils,  the  linings  of  which  have  the  hue  of  crimson  Andem- 
wood. 

"  When  they  ascend  from  the  bosom  of  the  vale,  they  sit  forward  on  the 
saddle-cloth,  with  every  mark  of  a  voluptuous  gayety. 

"  Now,  when  they  have  reached  the  brink  of  yon  blue-gushing  rivulet,  they 
fix  the  poles  of  their  tents  like  the  Arab  with  a  settled  mansion.' 

'  See  Eernier's  description  of  the  attendants  on  Rauchanara-Begum,  in  hei 
progress  to  Cashmere. 


L  A  L  L  A    R  0  O  K  H.  33 

science  nnd  literature ;  from  the  mixture  of  a  conserve  of  rose- 
leaves  to  the  composition  of  an  epic  poem :  and  such  influence 
had  his  opinion  upon  the  various  tastes  of  the  day,  that  all 
the  cooks  and  poets  of  Dellii  stood  in  awe  of  him.  His 
l)olitical  conduct  and  opinions  were  founded  upon  that  line 
of  Sadi, — "  Should  the  Prince  at  noonday  say,  It  is  night, 
declai'e  that  you  behold  the  moon  and  stars." — And  his  zeal 
for  religion,  of  which  Aurungzebe  was  a  magnificent  pro- 
tector,'' was  about  as  disinterested  as  that  of  the  goldsmith 
who  fell  in  love  with  the  diamond  eyes  of  the  idol  of 
Jaghernaut.'' 

During  the  first  days  of  their  journey,  Lalla  Rookh, 
who  had  passed  all  her  life  within  the  shadow  of  the  Royal 
Gardens  of  Delhi,"  found  enough  in  the  beauty  of  the  scenery 


»  This  hypocritical  Emperor  would  have  made  a  worthy  associate  of  certain 
Holy  Leagues. — «  He  held  the  cloak  of  religion  (says  Dow)  between  his  actions 
and  the  vulgar ;  and  impiously  thanked  the  Divinity  for  a  success  which  he  owed 
to  his  own  wickedness.  When  he  was  murdering  and  persecuting  his  brothers 
and  their  families,  he  was  building  a  magnificent  mosque  at  Delhi,  as  an  offer- 
ing to  God  for  his  assistance  to  him  in  the  civil  wars.  He  acted  as  high  priest 
at  the  consecration  of  this  temple ;  and  made  a  practice  of  attending  divino 
service  there,  in  the  humble  dress  of  a  Fakeer.  But  when  he  lifted  one  hand 
to  the  Divinity,  he,  with  the  other,  signed  warrants  for  the  assassination  of  his 
relations." — Ilislori/  of  Hbidostan,  vol.  iii.  p.  335.  See  also  the  curious  letter 
of  Aurungzebe,  given  in  the  Oriental  Collections,  vol.  i.  p.  320. 

''  "  The  idol  at  Jaghcrnat  has  two  fine  diamonds  for  eyes  No  goldsmith  la 
suffered  to  enter  the  Pagoda,  one  having  stole  one  of  these  eyes,  being  locked 
up  all  night  with  the  idol." — Tavernicr, 

'  See  a  description  of  these  royal  Gardens  in  "An  account  of  the  present 
State  of  Delhi  by  Lieutenant  W.  Franklin." — Jisial.  Research,  voL  iv.  d 
417 


34  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  O  K  H. 

through  ^vhich  they  passed  to  interest  her  mind,  and  dehght 
her  imagination ;  and  when  at  evening,  or  in  the  heat  of  the 
day,  they  turned  off  from  the  high  road  to  those  retired  and 
romantic  places  which  had  been  selected  'for  her  encamp- 
ments, sometimes  on  the  banks  of  a  small  rivulet,  as  clear 
as  the  waters  of  the  Lake  of  Pearl ;  *  sometimes  under  the 
sacred  shade  of  a  Banyan  tree,  from  which  the  view  opened 
upon  a  glade  covered  with  antelopes ;  and  often  in  those 
hidden,  embowered  spots,  described  by  one  from  the  Isles 
of  tlie  West,"  as  places  of  melancholy,  delight,  and  safety, 
where  all  the  company  around  was  wild  peacocks  and  turtle- 
doves ; — she  felt  a  charm  in  these  scenes,  so  lovely  and  so 
new  to  her,  which,  for  a  time,  made  her  indifferent  to  every 
other  amusement.  But  Lalla  Rookh  was  young,  and  the 
young  love  variety  ;  nor  could  the  conversation  of  her  Ladies 
and  the  Great  Chamberlain  Fadladeen,  (the  only  persons, 
of  course,  admitted  to  her  pavilion,)  sufficiently  enliven  those 
many  vacant  hours,  which  w^ere  devoted  neither  to  the 
pillow  nor  the  palankeen.  There  wa^  a  little  Persian  slave 
who  sung  sweetly  to  the  Vina,  and  w^ho,  now  and  then, 
lulled   the  Princess  to  sleep  with  the  ancient  ditties  of  her 


*  "In  the  neighbourhood  is  Notte  Gill,  or  the  Lake  of  Pearl,  which  receives 
this  name  from  its  pellucid  water." — Pcivianfs  Hindostan. 

"Nasir  Jung,  encamped  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Lake  of  Tonoor,  amused 
Iiims^lf  with  sailing  on  that  clear  and  beautiful  water,  and  gave  it  the  fancilul 
name  of  Motce  Talah,  'the  Lake  of  Pearls,'  which  it  still  retains." — Wil/cs't 
South  of  Lrdia. 

<>  Sir  Thomas  Roe,  Ambassador  from  James  L  to  Jehangiiire. 


L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H.  35 


country,  about  the  loves  of  Wamak  and  Ezra,"  the  fair- 
haired  Zal  and  his  mistress  Rodahver./  not  forgetting  the 
combat  of  Rustam  with  the  terrible  White  Demon."  At 
other  times  she  was  amused  by  those  graceful  dancing-girls 
of  Dellii,  who  had  been  permitted  by  the  Bramins  of  the 
Great  Pagoda  to  attend  her,  much  to  the  horror  of  the  gooG 
Mussulman  Fadladeen,  w^ho  could  see  nothing  graceful  or 
agreeable  in  idolaters,  and  to  whom  the  very  tinkling  of  their 
golden  anklets  *  was  an  abomination. 


*  "The  romance  Wemakweazra,  Avritten  in  Persian  verse,  which  contains 
the  loves  of  Wamak  and  Ezra,  two  celehrated  lovers  who  lived  before  the  time 
of  Mahomet." — Note  on  the  Oriental  Tales. 

^  Their  amour  is  recounted  in  the  Shah-Nameh  of  Ferdousi ;  and  there  is 
much  beauty  in  the  passage  which  describes  the  slaves  of  Rodahver  sitting  on 
the  bank  of  the  river  and  throwing  flowers  into  the  stream,  in  order  to  draw 
the  attention  of  the  young  Hero  who  is  encamped  on  the  opposite  side. — See 
ChampiovLS  translation. 

■=  Rustam  is  the  Hercules  of  the  Persians.  For  the  particulars  of  his  \-ic- 
tory  over  the  Sepeed  Deeve,  or  White  Demon,  see  Oriental  Collections,  vol.  ii. 
p.  45. — Near  the  city  of  Shirauz  is  an  immense  quadrangular  monument,  in 
commemoration  of  this  combat,  called  the  Kelaat-i-Deev  Sepeed,  or  Castle 
of  the  White  Giant,  which  Father  Angelo,  in  his  Gazophilacium  Persicum, 
p.  127,  declares  to  have  been  the  most  memorable  monument  of  antiquity 
which  he  had  seen  in  Persia. — See  Ouselet/s  Persian  Miscellanies 

■i^'The  women  of  the  Idol,  or  dancing-girls  of  the  Pagoda,  have  little 
golden  bells,  fastened  to  their  feet,  the  soft,  harmonious  tinkling  of  which 
vibrates  in  unison  with  the  exquisite  melody  of  their  voices." — Maurice'i 
Indian  Antiquities. 

"The  Arabian  courtesans,  hke  the  Indian  women,  have  little  golden  bells 
fastened  round  their  legs,  neck,  ajid  elbows,  to  the  sound  of  which  they 
dance  before  the  King.  The  Arabian  princesses  wear  golden  rings  on  their 
fingers,  to  which  Uttle  bells  are  suspended,  as  well  as  in  the  flowing  tresses 
of  their  hair,  that  their  superior  rank  may  be  known,  and  they  themselves 
receive  in  passing  the  homage  due  to  them." — See  Calmel's  Dictionary 
art.  Bells. 


38  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 


But  these  and  many  other  diversions  were  repeated  til] 
they  lost  all  their  charm,  and  the  nights  and  noondays  were 
beginning  to  move  heavily,  when,  at  length,  it  was  recol- 
lected that,  among  the  attendants  sent  by  thu  bridegroom, 
was  a  young  poet  of  Cashmere,  much  celebrated  throughout 
the  Valley  for  his  manner  of  reciting  the  Stories  of  the  East, 
on  whom  his  Royal  Master  had  conferred  the  privilege  of 
being  admitted  to  the  pavilion  of  the  Princess,  that  he  might 
help  to  beguile  the  tediousness  of  the'  journey,  by  some 
of  his  most  agreeable  recitals.  At  the  mention  of  a  poet, 
Fadladeen  elevated  his  critical  eyebrows,  and,  having  re- 
freshed his  faculties  wdth  a  dose  of  that  delicious  opium " 
which  is  distilled  from  the  black  poppy  of  the  Thebais,  gave 
orders  for  the  minstrel  to  be  forthwith  introduced  into  the 
presence. 

The  Princess,  who  had  once  in  her  life  seen  a  poet 
from  behind  the  screens  of  gauze  in  her  Father's  hall,  and 
had  conceived  from  that  specimen  no  very  favourable  ideas 
of  the  Caste,  expected  but  little  in  this  new  exhibition  to 
interest  her ; — she  felt  inclined,  however,  to  alter  her  opinion 
on  the  very  first  appearance  of  Feramorz.  He  was  a  youth 
about  Lalla  Rookh's  own  age,  and  graceful  as  that  idol 
of   women,   Crishna,'' — -.such   as   he  appears  to  their   young 


"Abou-Tig-e,  ville  de  la  Thebaide,  ou  il  croit  beaucoiip  de  pavot  noir, 
lont  se  fait  le  mcilleur  opium." — D'Hcrbclot. 

^  The  Indian  Apollo. — "  He  and  the  three  Rimas  are  descriled  as  youttis 


L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H.  37 

imaginations,  heroic,  beautiful,  breathing  music  from  his 
very  eyes,  and  exalting  the  religion  of  his  worshippers  into 
love.  His  dress  was  simple,  yet  not  without  some  marks 
of  costliness :  and  the  Ladles  of  the  Princess  were  not  Ions 
in  discovering  that  the  cloth,  which  encircled  his  high  Tar- 
tarian cap,  was  of  the  most  delicate  kind  that  the  shawl-goats 
of  Tibet  supply.*  Here  and  there,  too,  over  his  vest,  which 
was  confined  by  a  flowered  girdle  of  Kashan,  hung  strings 
of  fine  pearl,  disposed  with  an  air  of  studied  negligence ; — 
nor  did  the  exquisite  embroidery  of  his  sandals  escape 
the  observation  of  these  fair  critics ;  who,  however  they 
might  give  way  to  Fadladeen  upon  the  unimportant  topics 
of  religion  and  government,  had  the  spirit  of  martyrs  in 
every  thing  relating  to  such  momentous  matters  as  jewels 
and  embroidery. 

For  the  purpose  of  relieving  the  pauses  of  recitation  by 
music,  the  young  Cashmerian  held  in  his  hand  a  kitar; — 
such  as,  in  old  times,  the  Arab  maids  of  the  West  used 
to  listen  to  by  moonlight  in  the  gardens  of  the  Alhambra— 
and,  having  premised,  with  much  humility,  that  the  slory 
he  was  about  to  relate  was  founded  on  the  adventures  of 


of  perfect  beauty;  and  the  princesses  of  Hindustan  were  all  passionately  in  love 
with  Crishna,  who  continues  to  this  hour  the  darling  God  of  the  Indian 
women." — Sir  W.  Jones,  on  the  Gods  of  Greece,  Italy,  and  India. 

*  See  Turner^s  Embassy  for  a  description  of  this  animal,  "  tlic  most  beautiful 
among  the  whole  ti-ibe  of  goats."  The  material  for  the  shawls  (wliich  is  car* 
ried  to  Cashmere)  is  found  next  the  skm. 

D 


38  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

tliat  Veiled  Prophet  of  Kliorassan,^  who,  in  the  year  of  the 
Hegira  163,  created  such  alarm  throughout  the  Eastern  Em- 
pire, made  an  obeisance  to  the  Princess,  and  thus  began: 


■  For  the  real  history  of  this  Impostor,  whose  original  name  was  Hakem 
Den  Hascljem,  and  who  was  called  Mocanna  from  the  veil  of  silver  gauze  ior, 
as  others  say,  golden)  which  he  al^vays  wore,  see  D'Herbelot. 


THE 


VEILED   PKOPHET  OF  KHOllASSAN.- 


In  that  delightful  Province  of  the  Sun, 
The  first  of  Persian  lands  he  shines  upon, 
Where  all  the  loveliest  children  of  his  beam, 
Flowerets  and  fruits,  blush  over  every  stream,* 
And,  fairest  of  all  streams,  the  Mubga  roves 
Among  IMerou's"  bright  palaces  and  groves  ; — 
There  on  that  throne,  to  which  the  blind  belief 
Of  millions  raised  him,  sat  the  Prophet-Chief, 
The  Great  Mokanna.     O'er  his  features  hung 
The  Veil,  the  Silver  Veil,  which  he  had  flung 
In  mercy  there,  to  hide  from  mortal  sight 
His  dazzling  brow,  till  man  could  bear  its  light. 
For,  far  less  luminous,  his  votaries  said, 
Were  ev'n  the  gleams,  miraculously  shed 


*  Khorassan  signifies,  in  the  old  Persian  language,  Province  or  Region  of 
the  Sun. — Sir  W.  Jones. 

^  « The  fruits  of  Meru  are  finer  than  those  of  any  other  place ;  and  one 
cannot  see  in  any  other  city  such  palaces,  with  groves,  and  streams,  and 
gardens." — Ebti  Haukal's  Geography. 

'  One  of  the  royal  cities  of  Khorassan. 


iO  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  U  K  H. 

O'er  Moussa's*  cheek,"  when  down  the  Mount  he  trod, 
Al]  glowing  from  the  presence  of  his  God ! 

.  On  either  side,  with  ready  hearts  and  hands. 
His  chosen  guard  of  bold  Believers  stands ; 
Young  fire-eyed  disputants,  who  deem  their  swords, 
On  points  of  faith,  more  eloquent  than  words  ; 
And  such  their  zeal,  there's  not  a  youth  with  brand 
Uplifted  there,  but,  at  the  Chief's  command, 
Would  make  his  own  devoted  heart  its  sheath, 
And  bless  the  lips  that  doomed  so  dear  a  death ! 
In  hatred  to  the  Caliph's  hue  of  night," 
Their  vesture,  helms  and  all,  is  snowy  white  ; 
Their  weapons  various — some  equipped,  for  speed, 
With  javelins  of  the  light  Kathaian  reed  ;  ^ 
Or  bows  of  buffalo-horn  and  shining  quivers 
Filled  with  the  stems  ^  that  bloom  on  Iran's  rivers  ;  ^ 


»  Moses. 

i)  "  Ses  disciples  assuroient  qu'il  se  couvroit  le  visage,  pour  ne  pas  eblouir 
ceux  qui  I'approchoient  par  I'eclat  de  son  visage  comme  Moyse." — D' Herbclot. 

'  Black  was  the  colour  adopted  by  the  Caliphs  of  the  House  of  Abbas,  in 
their  garments,  turbans,  and  standards. — "II  faut  remarquer  ici  touchanc  les 
habits  Wanes  des  disciples  de  Hakem,  que  la  couleur  des  habits,  des  coeffures  et 
des  etendarts  des  Khalifes  Abassides  etant  la  noire,  ce  chef  de  Rebelles  ne  pou- 
voit  pas  choisir  u\;  qui  lui  fut  plus  opposee." — D'Hcrbehf. 

^  «  Our  dark  javelins,  exquisitely  wrought  of  Khathaian  reeds,  slender  and 
delicate." — Poem  of  Amru, 

«  Pichula,  used  anciently  for  arrows  by  the  Persians. 

f  The  Persians  call  this  plant  Gaz.  The  celebrated  shaft  of  Isfendiar,  one 
of  their  ancient  heroes,  was  made  of  it. — "  Nothing  can  be  more  beautiful  than 
the  appearance  of  tliis  plant  in  flower  durmg  the  rains  on  the  banks  of  rivera, 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KHORASSAN.       41 

While  some,  for  war's  more  terrible  attacks, 
Wield  the  huge  mace  and  ponderous  battle-axe  ; 
And  as  they  wave  aloft  in  morning's  beam 
The  milk-white  plumage  of  their  helms,  they  seem 
Like  a  chenar-tree  grove "  when  winter  throv/s 
O'er  all  its  tufted  heads  his  feathering  snows. 

Between  the  porphyry  pillars,  that  uphold 
The  rich  moresque-work  of  the  roof  of  gold, 
Aloft  the  Haram's  curtained  galleries  rise, 
Where  through  the  silken  network,  glancing  eyes. 
From  time  to  time,  like  sudden  gleams  that  glow 
Through  autumn  clouds,  shine  o'er  the  pomp  below. — 
What  impious  tongue,  ye  blushing  saints,  would  dare 
To  hint  that  aught  but  Heaven  hath  placed  you  there .'' 
Or  that  the  loves  of  this  light  world  could  bind. 
In  their  gross  chain,  your  Prophet's  soaring  mind  ? 
No — wrongful  thought ! — commissioned  from  above 
To  people  Eden's  bowers  with  shapes  of  love, 
(Creatures  so  bright,  that  the  same  lips  and  eyes 
They  wear  on  earth  will  serve  in  Paradise,) 
There  to  recline  among  Heaven's  native  maids. 
And  crown  th'  Elect  with  bliss  that  never  fades — 


where  it  is  usually  interwoven  with  a  lovely  twining  asclepias." — Sir  W.  Jones, 
Botanical  Observations  on  8clect  Indian  Plants. 

»  The  oriental  plane.  "  The  chenar  is  a  delightful  tree  ;  its  bole  is  of  a  fine 
white  and  smooth  bark ;  and  its  foliage,  which  grows  in  a  tuft  at  the  summit 
fe  of  a  bright  green." — Morier's  Travels. 

s2 


42  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

Well  hath  the  Prophet-Chief  his  bidding  done  ; 

And  every  beauteous  race  beneath  the  sun, 

From  those  who  kneel  at  Brahma's  burning  founts, * 

To  the  fresh  nymphs  bounding  o'er  Yemen's  mounts  ; 

From  Persia's  eyes  of  full  and  fawn-like  ray, 

To  the  small,  half-shut  glances  of  K^thay  : '' 

And  Georgia's  bloom,  and  Azab's  darker  smiles. 

And  the  gold  ringlets  of  the  Western  Isles ; 

All,  all  are  there ; — each  Land  its  flower  hath  given, 

To  form  that  fair  young  Nursery  for  Heaven  ! 


But  why  this  pageant  now  ?  this  armed  array  ? 
What  triumph  crowds  the  rich  Divan  to-day 
With  turbaned  heads,  of  every  hue  and  race, 
Bowing  before  that  veiled  and  awful  face. 
Like  tulip-beds,'=  of  different  shape  and  dyes, 
Bending  beneath  th'  invisible  West- wind's  sighs . 
What  new-made  mystery  now,  for  Faith  to  sign, 
And  blood  to  seal,  as  genuine  and  divine. 
What  dazzling  mimicry  of  God's  own  power 
Hath  the  bold  Prophet  planned  to  grace  this  hour  ? 


s  The  burning  fountains  of  Brahma  near  Chittogong,  esteemed  as  holy.— . 
Turner. 

b  China. 

«  «  The  name  of  tulip  is  said  to  be  of  Turkish  extraction,  and  given  to  the 
flower  on  account  of  its  resembling  a  turban." — Beckmannh  History  of  la 
Tentions. 


VEILED    PROPHET    OFKHORASSAN.      43 

Not  such  tlie  pageant  now,  though  not  less  proud  • 
Yon  warrior  youth,  advancing  from  the  crowd, 
With  silver  bow,  with  belt  of  broidered  crape, 
And  fur-bound  bonnet  of  Bucharian  shape,'' 
So  fiercely  beautiful  in  form  and  eye. 
Like  war's  wild  planet  in  a  summer  sky ; 
That  youth  to  day, — a  proselyte,  worth  hordes 
Of  cooler  spirits  and  less  practised  swords, — 
Is  come  to  join,  all  bravery  and  belief. 
The  creed  and  standard  of  the  heaven-sent  Chief. 

Though  few  his  years,  the  West  already  knows 
Young  Azim's  fame ; — beyond  th'  Olympian  snows, 
Ere  manhood  darkened  o'er  his  downy  cheek, 
O'erwhelmed  in  fight  and  captive  to  the  Greek,' 
He  lingered  there,  till  peace  dissolved  his  chains ; — 
O,  who  could,  even  in  bondage,  tread  the  plains 
Of  glorious  Greece,  nor  feel  his  spirit  rise 
Kindling  within  him  ?  who,  with  heart  and  eyes, 
Could  wallc  where  Liberty  had  been,  nor  see 
The  shining  footprints  of  her  Deity, 
Nor  feel  those  godlike  breathing's  in  the  air, 
W^hich  mutely  told  her  spirit  had  been  there  ? 

a  "  The  inhabitants  of  Bucharia  wear  a  round  cloth  bonnet,  shaped  much 
after  the  PoUsh  fashion,  having  a  large  fur  border.  They  tie  their  kaftans  about 
the  middle  with  a  girdle  of  a  kind  of  silk  crape,  several  times  round  the  body."— 
Account  of  Independent  Tartary,  in  Pinkertoit's  Collection. 

^  In  the  war  of  the  Caliph  Mahadi  against  tlic  Emperor  Irene,  for  an  accouaJ 
of  which  vide  Gibbon,  vol.  x. 


44  LALLAROOKH. 

Not  he,  that  youtliful  warrior, — no,  too  well 

For  his  soul's  quiet  worked  the  awakening  spell ; 

And  now,  returning  to  his  own  dear  land, 

Full  of  those  dreams  of  good  that,  vainly  grand. 

Haunt  the  young  heart, — proud  views  of  human-kin  ', 

Of  men  to  Gods  exalted  and  refined, — 

False  views,  like  that  horizon's  fair  deceit. 

Where  earth  and  heaven  but  seeniy  alas,  to  meet ! — 

Soon  as  he  heard  an  Arm  Divine  was  raised 

To  right  the  nations,  and  beheld,  emblazed 

On  the  white  flag  Mokanna's  host  unfurled, 

Those  words  of  sunshine,  "Freedom  to  the  World," 

At  once  his  faith,  his  sword,  his  soul  obeyed 

Th'  inspiring  summons ;  every  chosen  blade 

That  fought  beneath  that  banner's  sacred  text 

Seemed  doubly  edged,  for  this  world%nd  the  next  • 

And  ne'er  did  Faith  with  her  smooth  bandage  bind 

Eyes  more  devoutly  willing  to  be  blind, 

In  virtue's  cause ; — never  was  soul  inspired 

With  livelier  trust  in  what  it  most  desired. 

Than  his,  th'  enthusiast  there,  who  kneeling,  pale 

With  pious  awe,  before  that  Silver  Veil, 

Believes  the  form,  to  which  he  bends  his  knee, 

Some  pure,  redeeming  angel,  sent  to  free 

This  fettered  world  from  every  bond  and  stain, 

And  bring  its  primal  glories  back  again" 


VEILED    PKOPHET    OF    KHORASSAN.       4^ 

Low  as  young  Azim  knelt,  that  motley  crowd 
Of  all  earth's  nations  sunk  the  knee  and  bowed, 
\^'ith  shouts  of  "Alla!"  echoinfy  long^  and  loud  : 
While  high  in  air,  above  the  Prophet's  head, 
Hundreds  of  banners,  to  the  sunbeam  spread. 
Waved,  like  the  wings  of  the  white  birds  that  fan 
The  flying  throne  of  star-taught  Soliman." 
Then  thus  he  spoke ; — "  Stranger,  though  new  the  frame 
"  Thy  soul  inhabits  now,  I've  tracked  its  flame 
"For  many  an  age,*"  in  every  chance  and  change 
"  Of  that  existence,  through  whose  varied  range, — 
"As  through  a  torch-race,  where,  from  hand  to  hand, 
"  The  flying  youths  transmit  their  shining  brand, — 
"From  frame  to  frame  the  unextinguished  soul 
" Rapidly  passes,  till  it  reach  the  goal! 

"  Nor  think  'tis  only  the  gross  Spirits,  warmed 
"With  duskier  fire  and  for  earth's  medium  formed, 


»  This  wonderful  Throne  was  called  'J"he  Star  of  the  Genii.  For  a  full  de 
scription  of  it,  see  the  Fragment,  translated  by  Captain  Franklin,  from  a  Persian 
MS.  entitled  «  The  History  of  Jerusalem,"  Oriental  Collections,  t:  .  ..  p.  235. — 
When  Soliman  travelled,  the  Eastern  writers  say,  "He  had  a  carpet  of  green 
silk  on  which  his  throne  was  placed,  being  of  a  prodigious  length  and  breadth, 
and  sufficient  for  all  his  forces  to  stand  upon,  the  men  placing  themselves  on  his 
right  hand,  and  the  spirits  on  his  left;  and  that  when  all  were  in  order,  the 
wind,  at  his  command,  took  up  the  carpet,  and  transported  it,  with  all  that  were 
upon  it,  wherever  he  pleased ;  the  army  of  birds  at  the  same  time  flying  ovei 
their  heads,  and  forming  a  kind  of  canopy  to  shade  them  from  the  sun." — SaWt 
Koran,  vol.  ii.  p.  214,  note. 

'  The  transmigration  of  souls  was  one  of  his  doctrines.     Vide  D'Hcrhdot. 


46  LALLAKOOKH. 


"  That  run  this  course ; — Beings,  the  most  divine, 

"  Thus  deign  through  dark  mortahty  to  shine. 

"  Such  was  the  Essence  that  in  Adam  dwelt, 

"  To  which  all  Heaven,  except  tlie  Proud  One,  knelt  :• 

•'  Such  the  refined  Intelligence  that  glowed 

"In  Moussa's*"  frame, — and,  thence  descending,  flowed 

"Through  many  a  Prophet's  breast;  " — in  Issa*^  shone, 

"  And  in  Mohammed  burned ;  till,  hastening  on, 

"  (As  a  bright  river,  that  from  fall  to  fall 

"In  many  a  maze  descending,  bright  through  all, 

"Finds  some  fair  region  where,  each  labyrinth  past, 

"In  one  full  lake  of  light  it  rests  at  last,) 

"  That  Holy  Spirit,  settling  calm  and  free 

"  From  lapse  or  shadow,  centres  all  in  me !" 

Again,  throughout  th'  assembly,  at  these  words, 
Thousands  of  voices  rung :  the  warriors'  swords 
Were  pointed  up  to  heaven:  a  sudden  wind 
In  th'  open  banners  played,  and  from  behind 

*«And  when  we  said  unto  the  angels,  Worship  Adam,  they  all  worshipped 
Kim  except  Eblis,  (Lucifer,)  who  refused."     The  Koran,  chap.  ii. 

**  Moses. 

<=  This  is  according  to  D'Herbelot's  account  of  the  doctrines  of  Mokanna: — 
« Sa  doctrine  etoit,  que  Dieu  avoit  pris  une  forme  et  figure  humaine,  depuis 
qu'il  eut  commande  aux  Anges  d'adorer  Adam,  le  premier  des  hommes. 
Qu'apres  la  mort  d'Adam,  Dieu  etoit  apparu  sous  la  figure  de  plusieurs  Pro- 
phctes,  et  autres  grands  hommes  qu'il  avoit  choises,  jusqu'a  ce  qu'il  prit  celle 
d'Abu  Moslem,  Prince  de  Khorassan,  lequel  professoit  I'erreur  de  la  Tenas- 
sukhiah  ou  Metempsychose ;  et  qu'apres  la  mort  de  ce  Prince,  la  Divinita 
etoit  passee,  et  descendue  en  sa  personne." 

d  Jesus. 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KHORASSAN.        47 


Those  Persian  hangings,  that  but  ill  could  screen 
The  Haram's  loveliness,  white  hands  were  seen 
Waving  embroidered  scarves,  whose  motion  gave 
A  perfume  forth — like  those  the  Houris  wave 
When  beckonins:  to  their  bowers  th'  immortal  Brave. 


"But  these,"  pursued  the  Chief,  "are  truths  sublime, 
"  That  claim  a  holier  mood  and  calmer  time 
"Than  earth  allows  us  now; — this  sword  must  first 
"The  darkling  prison-house  of  Mankind  burst, 
"Ere  Peace  can  visit  them,  or  Truth  let  in 
"  Her  wakening  daylight  on  a  world  of  sin. 
"But  then, — celestial  warriors,  then,  when  all 
"  Earth's  shrines  and  thrones  before  our  banner  fall ; 
"When  the  glad  Slave  shall  at  these  feet  lay  dowi^ 
"  His  broken  chain,  the  tyrant  Lord  his  crov>'n, 
"  The  Priest  his  book,  the  Conqueror  his  wreath, 
"  And  from  the  lips  of  Truth  one  mighty  breath 
"  Shall,  like  a  whirlwind,  scatter  in  its  breeze 
"That  whole  dark  pile  of  human  mockeries: — 
"  Then  shall  the  reign  of  mind  commence  on  earth, 
"And  starting  fresh  as  from  a  second  birth, 
"Man,  in  the  sunshine  of  the  world's  new  spring, 
"  Shall  walk  transparent,  like  some  holy  thing! 
"  Then,  too,  your  Prophet  from  his  angel  brow 
"  Shall  cast  the  Veil  that  hides  its  splendours  now, 


48  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 


"  And  gladdened  Earth  shall,  through  her  wide  expanse, 
<  Bask  in  tlie  glories  of  this  countenance ! 


&* 


"  For  thee,  }t)ung  warrior,  welcome ! — thou  hast  yet 
"  Some  tasks  to  learn,  some  frailtie?  to  forget, 
"Ere  the  white  war-plume  o'er  thy  brow  can  wave; — 
"But,  once  my  own,  mine  all  till  in  the  grave '" 

The  pomp  is  at  an  end — the  crowds  are  gone- 
Each  ear  and  heart  still  haunted  by  the  tone 
Of  that  deep  voice,  which  thrilled  like  Alla's  own! 
The  Young  all  dazzled  by  the  plumes  and  lances, 
The  glittering  throne,  and  Haram's  half-caught-  glances  ; 
The  Old  deep  pondering  on  the  promised  reign 
Of  peace  and  trutli ;  and  all  the  female  train 
Ready  to  risk  their  eyes,  could  they  but  gaze 
A  moment  on  that  brow's  miraculous  blaze! 

But  there  was  one,  among  the  chosen  maids^ 
Who  blushed  behind  the  gallery's  silken  shades, 
One,  to  whose  soul  the  pageant  of  to-day 
Has  been  like  death ! — you  saw  her  pale  dismay, 
Ye  wondering  sisterhood,  and  heard  the  burst 
Of  exclamation  from  her  lips,  when  first 
She  saw  that  youth,  too  well,  too  dearly  known, 
Silently  kneelmg  at  the  Prophet's  throne. 


S  II  a  S  €  Ao 


\  sa^r  hei  pale  dismay. 
Ye  wondenng  sisterhood,  and  lieaid.  the  buist 
Of  exclamation  fiom  hex  lips,  -when  first 

She  saw  '^     '  •      ■•''   *        T-'i  "-o  dearly  kiT-^wii 
?i^-fi;lv  :  -fs  throne  " 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KHORASSAN.       49 

Ah  Zelica  !  there  was  a  time,  when  bhss 
Shone  o'er  thy  heart  from  every  look  of  his; 
When  but  to  see  him,  hear  him,  breathe  the  air, 
In  which  he  dwelt,  w^as  thy  soul's  fondest  prayer ; 
When  round  him  hung  such  a  perpetual  spell, 
Whate'er  he  did,  none  ever  did  so  well. 
Too  happy  days !  when,  if  he  touched  a  flower 
Or  gem  of  thine,  'twas  sacred  from  that  hour ; 
When  thou  didst  study  him  till  every  tone 
And  gesture  and  dear  look  became  thy  own. — 
Thy  voice  like  his,  the  changes  of  his  face 
In  thine  reflected  with  still  lovelier  grace. 
Like  echo,  sending  back  sweet  music,  fraught 
With  twice  th'  aerial  sweetness  it  had  brought ! 
Yet  now  he  comes, — brighter  than  even  he 
E'er  beamed  before, — but,  ali!  not  bright  for  thee. 
No — dread,  unlooked  for,  like  a  visitant 
From  th'  other  world,  he  comes  as  if  to  haunt 
Thy  guilty  soul  with  dreams  of  lost  delight. 
Long  lost  to  all  but  memory's  aching  sight ; — 
Sad  dreams !  as  when  the  Spirit  of  our  Youth 
Returns  in  sleep,  sparkling  with  all  the  truth 
And  innocence  once  ours,  and  leads  us  back, 
In  mournful  mockery,  o'er  the  shining  track 
Of  our  young  life,  and  points  out  every  ray 
Of  hope  and  peace  we've  lost  upon  the  way! 


^0  LALLAROOKH. 


Once  happy  pair ! — In  proud  Bokhara's  groves, 
Who  had  not  heard  of  their  first  youthful  loves  ? 
Born  by  that  ancient  flood,"  which  from  its  spring 
>  In  the  Dark  Mountains  swiftly  wandering, 
Enriched  by  every  pilgrim  brook  that  shines 
With  relics  from  Bucharia's  ruby  mines, 
And,  lending  to  the  Caspian  half  its  strength, 
In  the  cold  Lake  of  Eagles  sinks  at  length ; — 
There,  on  the  banks  of  that  bright  river  born. 
The  flowers,  that  hung  above  its  wave  at  morn, 
Blessed  not  the  waters,  as  they  murmured  by, 
With  holier  scent  and  lustre,  than  the  sigh 
And  virgin-glance  of  first  aflTection  cast 
Upon  their  youth's  smooth  current,  as  it  passed ! 
But  war  disturbed  this  vision, — far  aw^ay 
From  her  fond  eyes  summoned  to  join  th'  array 
Of  Persia's  w^arriors  on  the  hills  of  Thrace, 
The  youth  exchanged  his  sylvan  dwelling-place 
For  the  rude  tent  and  war-field's  deathful  clash 
His  Zelica's  sweet  glances  for  the  flash 
Of  Grecian  wild-fire,  and  Love's  gentle  chains 
For  bleeding  bondage  on  Byzantium's  plains. 

Month  after  month,  in  widowhood  of  soul 
Drooping,  the  maiden  saw  two  summers  roll 

a  The  Amoo,  which  rises  in  the  Bekir  Tag,  or  Dark  Mountains,  and  run. 
ning  nearly  from  cast  to  west,  splits  into  two  branches ;  one  of  which  falls  inw 
the  Caspian  Sea,  and  the  other  into  Aral  Nahr,  or  the  Lake  of  Eagles. 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KHORASSAN         pj 

Their  suns  away — but,  ah,  how  cold  and  dim 
Ev'n  summer  suns,  when  not  beheld  with  him ! 
From  time  to  time  ill-omened  rumours  came, 
Like  spirit-tongaies,  muttering  the  sick  man's  name. 
Just  ere  he  dies ; — at  lenglh  those  sounds  of  dread 
Fell  withering  on  her  soul,  "  Azim  is  dead!" 
0  Grief,  beyond  all  other  griefs,  when  fate 
First  leaves  the  young  heart  lone  and  desolate 
In  the  wide  world,  without  that  only  tie 
For  which  it  loved  to  live  or  feared  to  die ; — 
Lorn  as  the  hung-up  lute,  that  ne'er  hath  spoken 
Since  the  sad  day  its  master- chord  was  broken ' 

Fond  maid,  the  sorrow  of  her  soul  was  such, 
Ev'n  reason  sunk, — blighted  beneath  its  touch ; 
And  though,  ere  long,  her  sanguine  spirit  rose 
Above  the  first  dead  pressure  of  its  woes. 
Though  health  and  bloom  returned,  the  delicate  chain 
Of  thought,  once  tangled,  never  cleared  again. 
Warm,  lively,  soft  as  in  youth's  happiest  day. 
The  mind  was  still  all  there,  but  turned  astray ; — 
A  wandering  bark,  upon  whose  pathway  shone 
All  stars  of  heaven,  except  the  guiding  one ! 
Again  she  smiled,  nay,  much  and  brightly  smiled, 
But  'twas  a  lustre,  strange,  unreal,  wild ; 
And  when  she  sung  to  her  lute's  touching  strain, 
'Twas  like  the  notes,  half  ecstasy,  half  pain, 


52  LALLAROOKH. 


The  bulbul "  utters,  ere  her  soul  depart, 

When,  vanquished  by  some  minstrel's  powerful  art, 

She  dies  upon  the  lute  whose  sweetness  broke  her  heart ! 


Such  was  the  mood  in  which  that  mission  found 
Young  Zelica, — that  mission,  which  around 
The  Eastern  world,  in  every  region  blessed 
With  woman's  smile,  sought  out  its  loveliest, 
To  grace  that  galaxy  of  lips  and  eyes 
Which  the  Veiled  Prophet  destined  for  the  skies ; — 
And  such  quick  welcome  as  a  spark  receives 
Dropped  on  a  bed  of  Autumn's  withered  leaves. 
Did  every  tale  of  these  enthusiasts  find 
In  the  wild  maiden's  sorrow-blighted  mind. 
All  fire  at  once  the  maddening  zeal  she  caught ; — 
Elect  of  Paradise !  blest,  rapturous  thought ! 
Predestined  bride,  in  heaven's  eternal  dome, 
Of  some  brave  youth — ^ha!  durst  they  say  "  of  some?'* 
No — of  the  one,  one  only  object,  traced 
In  her  heart's  core  too  deep  to  be  eflfaced ; 
The  one  Vnose  memory,  fresh  as  life,  is  twmed 
With  every  broken  link  of  her  lost  mind ; 
Whose  image  lives,  though  Reason's  self  be  wrecked, 
Safe  'mid  the  ruins  of  her  intellect ! 

»  The  nightingale. 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KHORASSAN. 

Alas,  poor  Zelica  !  it  needed  all 
The  fantasy,  which  held  thy  mind  in  thrall. 
To  see  in  that  gay  Haram's  glowing  maids, 
A  sainted  colony  for  Eden's  shades ; 
Or  dream  that  he,  of  whose  unholy  flame 
Thou  wert  too  soon  the  victim, — shining  came 
From  Paradise,  to  people  its  pure  sphere 
With  souls  like  thine,  which  he  hath  ruined  here! 
No — had  not  reason's  light  totally  set, 
And  left  thee  dark,  thou  hadst  an  amulet 
In  the  loved  image,  graven  on  thy  heart. 
Which  would  have  saved  thee  from  the  tempter's  art, 
And  kept  alive,  in  all  its  bloom  of  breath. 
That  purity,  whose  fading  is  love's  death! — 
But  lost,  inflamed, — a  restless  zeal  took  place 
Of  the  mild  virgin's  still  and  feminine  grace ; 
First  of  the  Prophet's  favourites,  proudly  first 
In  zeal  and  charms, — too  well  th'  Impostor  nursed 
Her  soul's  delirium,  in  whose  active  flame. 
Thus  lighting  up  a  young,  luxuriant  frame. 
He  saw  more  potent  sorceries  to  bind 
To  his  dark  yoke  the  spirits  of  mankind. 
More  subtle  chains  than  hell  itself  e'er  twined. 
No  art  was  spared,  no  witchery ; — all  the  skill 
His  demons  taught  him  was  employed  to  fill 
Her  mind  with  gloom  and  ecstasy  by  turns — 
That  gloom,  tlirough  which  Frenzy  but  fiercer  burns ; 


54  LALLAROOKH. 

That  ecstasy,  which  from  the  depth  of  sadness 

Glares  like  the  maniac's  moon,  whose  light  is  madness ' 

'Twas  from  a  brilliant  banquet,  where  the  sound 
Of  poesy  and  music  breathed  around. 
Together  picturing  to  her  mind  and  ear 
The  glories  of  that  heaven,  her  destined  sphere, 
Where  all  was  pure,  where  every  stain  that  lay 
Upon  the  spirit's  light  should  pass  away, 
And,  realizing  more  than  youthful  love 
E'er  wished  or  dreamed,  she  should  for  ever  rove 
Through  fields  of  fragrance  by  her  Azim's  side, 
His  own  blessed,  purified,  eternal  bride  ! — 
'Twas  from  a  scene,  a  witching  trance  like  this, 
He  hurried  her  away,  yet  breathing  bliss. 
To  the  dim  charnel-house  ; — through  all  its  steams 
Of  damp  and  death,  led  only  by  those  gleams 
Which  foul  Corruption  lights,  as  with  design 
To  show  the  gay  and  proud  she  too  can  shine — 
And,  passing  on  through  upright  ranks  of  Dead, 
Which  to  the  maiden,  doubly  crazed  by  dread, 
Seemed,  through  the  bluish  death-light  round  them  cast, 
To  move  their  lips  in  mutterings  as  she  passed — 
There,  in  that  awful  place,  when  each  had  quaffed 
And  pledged  in  silence  such  a  fearful  draught. 
Such — 0 !  the  look  and  taste  of  that  red  bowl 
Will  haunt  her  till  she  dies — he  bound  her  soul 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KHOiiASSAN.       55 

By  a  dark  oath,  In  hell's  own  language  framed, 

Never,  while  earth  his  mystic  presence  claimed, 

While  tlie  blue  arch  of  day  hung  o'er  them  both. 

Never,  by  that  all-imprecating  oath. 

In  joy  or  sorrow  from  his  side  to  sever. 

She  swore,  and  the  wide  charnel  echoed,  "  Never,  never !" 


From  that  dread  hour,  entirely,  wildly  given 
To  him  and — she  believed,  lost  maid  ! — to  heaven , 
Her  brain,  her  heart,  her  passions  all  inflamed. 
How  proud  she  stood,  when  in  full  Haram  named 
The  Priestess  of  the  Faith ! — how  flashed  her  eyes 
With  light,  alas !  that  was  not  of  the  skies. 
When  round,  in  trances,  only  less  than  hers, 
She  saw  the  Haram  kneel,  her  prostrate  worshippers. 
Well  might  JMokanna  tliink  that  form  alone 
Had  spells  enough  to  make  the  world  his  own : — 
Light,  lovely  limbs,  to  which  the  spirit's  play 
Gave  motion,  airy  as  the  dancing  spray. 
When  from  its  stem  the  small  bird  wings  away ; 
Lips,  in  whose  rosy  labyrinth,  when  she  smiled, 
The  soul  was  lost ;  and  blushes,  swift  and  wild 
As  are  the  momentary  meteors  sent 
Across  th'  uncalm,  but  beauteous  firmament. 
And  then  her  look — 0  !  where's  the  heart  so  wise 
Could  unbewildered  meet  those  matchless  eyes  ? 


56  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 


Quick,  restless,  strange,  but  exquisite  withal, 

Like  those  of  angels,  just  before  their  fall ; 

Now  shadowed  with  the  shames  of  earth — now  crossed 

By  glimpses  of  the  heaven  her  heart  had  lost ; 

In  every  glance  there  broke,  without  control. 

The  flashes  of  a  bright  but  troubled  soul, 

Where  sensibility  still  wildly  played, 

Like  lightning,  round  the  ruins  it  had  made ! 

And  such  was  now  young  Zelica — so  changed 
From  her  who,  some  years  since,  dehghted  ranged 
The  almond  groves  that  shade  Bokhara's  tide. 
All  life  and  bliss,  with  Azim  by  her  side ! 
So  altered  was  she  now,  this  festal  day. 
When,  'mid  the  proud  Divan's  dazzling  array, 
The  vision  of  that  Youth  whom  she  had  loved. 
Had  wept  as  dead,  before  her  breathed  and  moved ; — 
When — bright,  she  thought,  as  if  from  Eden's  track 
But  half-way  trodden,  he  had  wandered  back 
Again  to  earth,  glistening  with  Eden's  light — 
Her  beauteous  Azim  shone  before  her  sight. 

0  Reason !  who  shall  say  what  spells  renew, 
When  least  we  look  for  it,  thy  broken  clew ! 
Through  what  small  vistas  o'er  the  darkened  brain 
Thy  intellectual  daybeam  bursts  again ; 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KHORASSAN.      57 

And  how,  like  forts,  to  which  beleaguerers  win 

Unhoped-for  entrance  through  some  friend  w^idiin. 

One  clear  idea,  wakened  in  the  breast 

By  memory's  magic,  lets  in  all  the  rest. 

Would  it  were  thus,-  unhappy  girl,  with  thee ! 

But  though  light  came,  it  came  but  partially ; 

Enough  to  show  the  maze,  in  which  thy  sense 

Wandered  about, — but  not  to  guide  it  thence  ; 

Enough  to  glimmer  o'er  the  yawning  wave. 

But  not  to  point  the  harbour  which  might  save. 

Hours  of  delight  and  peace,  long  left  behind,. 

With  that  dear  form  came  rushing  o'er  her  mind  ; 

But  0  !  to  think  how  deep  her  soul  had  gone 

In  shame  and  falsehood  since  those  moments  shone ; 

And  then,  her  oath — there  madness  lay  again, 

And,  shuddering,  back  she  sunk  into  her  chain 

Of  mental  darkness,  as  if  blessed  to  flee 

From  light,  whose  every  glimpse  was  agony  ! 

Yet,  one  relief  this  glance  of  former  years 

Brought,  mingled  with  its  pain, — tears,  floods  of  tears, 

Long  frozen  at  her  heart,  but  now  like  rills 

Let  loose  in  spring-time  from  the  snowy  hills, 

And  gushing  warm,  after  a  sleep  of  frost. 

Through  valleys  where  their  flow  had  long  been  lost. 

Sad  and  subdued,  for  the  first  time  her  frame 
Trembled  with  horror,  when  the  summons  came 


58  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 


(A  summons  proud  and  rare,  which  all  but  she, 
And  she,  till  now,  had  heard  with  ecstasy) 
To  meet  Mokanna  at  his  place  of  prayer, 
A  garden  oratory,  cool  and  fair. 
By  the  stream's  side,  where  still  at  close  of  day 
The  Prophet  of  the  Veil  retired  to  pray 
Sometimes  alone — but,  oftener  far,  with  one, 
One  chosen  nymph  to  share  his  orison. 

Of  late  none  found  such  favour  in  his  sight 
As  the  young  Priestess  ;  and  though,  since  that  night 
When  the  death-caverns  echoed  every  tone 
Of  the  dire  oath  that  made  her  all  his  own, 
Th'  Impostor,  sure  of  his  infatuate  prize, 
Had,  more  than  once,  thrown  off  his  soul's  disguise, 
And  uttered  such  unheavenly,  monstrous  things. 
As  ev'n  across  the  desperate  wanderings 
Of  a  weak  intellect,  whose  lamp  was  out. 
Threw  startling  shadows  of  dismay  and  doubt ; — 
Yet  zeal,  ambhion,  her  tremendous  vow, 
The  thought,  still  haunting  her,  of  that  bright  brow 
Whose  blaze,  as  yet  from  mortal  eye  concealed. 
Would  soon,  proud  triumph !  be  to  her  revealed, 
To  her  alone ; — and  then  the  hope,  most  dear, 
Most  wild  of  all,  that  her  transgression  here 
Was  but  a  passage  through  earth's  grosser  fire. 
From  which  the  spirit  would  at  last  aspire, 


VEILED  PROPHET  OF  KHORASSAN.   59 

Ev'n  purer  than  before, — as  perfumes  rise 

Through  flame  and  smoke,  most  welcome  to  the  skies — 

And  tliat  when  Azim's  fond,  divine  embrace 

Should  circle  her  in  heaven,  no  darkening  trace 

Would  on  that  bosom  he  once  loved  remain, 

But  all  be  bright,  be  pure,  be  his  again ! — 

These  were  the  wildering  dreams,  whose  cursed  deceit 

Had  chained  her  soul  beneath  the  tempter's  feet. 

And  made  her  think  ev'n  damning  falsehood  sweet. 

But  now  that  Shape,  which  had  appalled  her  view 

That  Semblance — 0  how  terrible,  if  true  ! — 

Which  came  across  her  frenzy's  full  career. 

With  shock  of  consciousness,  cold,  deep,  severe. 

As  when,  in  northern  seas,  at  midnight  dark. 

An  isle  of  ice  encounters  some  swift  bark. 

And,  startling  all  its  wretches  from  their  sleep. 

By  one  cold  impulse  hurls  them  to  the  deep  ; — 

So  came  that  shock  not  frenzy's  self  could  beai, 

And  waking  up  each  long-lulled  image  there. 

But  checked  her  headlong  soul,  to  sink  it  in  despair ' 

Wan  and  dejected,  through  the  evening  dusk, 
She  now  went  slowly  to  that  small  kiosk, 
Where,  pondering  alone  his  impious  schemes, 
MoKANNA  waited  her, — too  wrapped  in  dreams 
Of  the  fair-ripening  future's  rich  success, 
To  heed  the  sorrow,  pale  and  spiritless, 


60  LALLAROOKH. 

That  sat  upon  his  victim's  downcast  brow, 
Or  mark  how  slow  her  step,  how  altered  now 
From  the  quick,  ardent  Priestess,  whose  light  bound 
Came  like  a  spirit's  o'er  th'  unechoing  ground, — 
From  that  wild  Zelica,  whose  every  glance 
Was  thrilling  fire,  whose  every  thought  a  trance ! 

Upon  his  couch  the  Veiled  Mokanna  lay. 
While  lamps  around — not  such  as  lend  their  ray, 
Ghmmering  and  cold,  to  those  w^ho  nightly  pray 
fn  holy  KooM,^  or  Mecca's  dim  arcades, — 
But  brilliant,  soft,  such  lights  as  lovely  maids 
Look  loveh'est  in,  shed  their  luxurious  glow 
Upon  his  mystic  Veil's  white  glittering  flow. 
Beside  him,  'stead  of  beads  and  books  of  prayer, 
Which  the  world  fondly  thought  he  mused  on  there. 
Stood  Vases,  filled  with  Kishmee's''  golden  wine, 
And  the  red  weepings  of  the  Shiraz  vine  ; 
Of  which  his  curtained  lips  full  many  a  draught 
Took  ^^ealously,  as  if  each  drop  they  quaffed. 
Like  Zemzem's  Spring  of  Holiness,''  had  power 
To  freshen  the  soul's  virtues  into  flower  ! 


»  The  cities  of  Com  (or  Koom)  and  Cashan  are  full  of  mosques,  mausoleums, 
Wid  sepulchres  of  the  descendants  of  Ali,  the  Saints  of  Persia. — Chardin. 

»•  An  island  in  the  Persian  Gulf,  celebrated  for  its  white  wme. 

=  The  miraculous  well  at  Mecca ;  so  called,  says  Sale,  from  the  murmuring 
of  its  waters. 


TEILED  PROPHET  OF  KHORASSAN.   iM 

And  still  he  drank  and  pondered — nor  could  see 

Th'  approaching  maid,  so  deep  his  reverie ; 

At  length,  with  fiendish  laugh,  like  that  which  broke 

From  Eblis  at  the  Fall  of  Man,  he  spoke  : — 

"  Yes,  ye  vile  race,  for  hell's  amusement  given, 

"  Too  mean  for  earth,  yet  claiming  kin  with  heaven ; 

"  God's  images,  forsooth ; — such  gods  as  he 

"Whom  India  serves,  the  monkey  deity ;^ — 

"Ye  creatures  of  a  breath,  proud  things  of  clay, 

"  To  whom  if  Lucifer,  as  grandams  say, 

"  Refused,  though  at  the  forfeit  of  heaven's  light, 

"  To  bend  in  worship,  Lucifer  was  right !  ^ 

"  Soon  shall  I  plant  this  foot  upon  the  neck 

"  Of  your  foul  race,'  and  without  fear  or  check, 

^  The  god  Hannaman. — «  Apes  are  in  many  parts  of  InJia  highly  venerated, 
out  of  respect  to  tlie  god  Hannaman,  a  deity  partaking  of  the  form  of  that 
race." — Pennant'' s  Hindostan. 

See  a  curious  account,  in  Stephen's  Persia,  of  a  solemn  embassy  from  some 
part  of  the  Indies  to  Goa,  wlren  the  Portuguese  were  there,  offering  vast 
treasures  for  the  recovery  of  a  monkey's  tooth,  which  they  held  in  great  venera- 
tion, and  which  had  been  taken  away  upon  the  conquest  of  the  kingdom  of 
Jafanapatan. 

^  This  resolution  of  Ehlis  not  to  acknowledge  the  new  creature,  man,  was, 
according  to  Mahometan  tradition,  thus  adopted: — "The  earth  (which  God  had 
selected  for  the  materials  of  his  work)  was  carried  into  Arabia  to  a  place  between 
Mecca  and  Tayef,  where,  being  first  kneaded  by  the  angels,  it  .was  afterwaids 
fashioned  by  God  himself  into  a  human  form,  and  left  to  dry  for  the  space  of 
forty  days,  or,  as  others  say,  as  many  years ;  the  angels,  in  the  mean  time,  often 
visiting  it,  and  Eblis  (then  one  of  the  angels  nearest  to  God's  presence,  af\er 
wards  the  devil)  among  the  rest;  but  he,  not  contented  with  looking  at  it, 
kicked  it  with  his  foot  till  it  rung;  and  knowing  God  designed  that  creature  to 
be  his  superior,  took  a  secret  resolution  never  to  acknowledge  him  as  such.  — 
iSa^t',  on  the  Koran. 

P 


<ia  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 


"  Luxuriating  in  hate,  avenge  my  shame, 

"My  deep-felt,  long-nursed  loathing  of  man's  name! — 

"  Soon  at  the  head  of  myriads,  blind  and  fierce 

"As  hooded  falcons,  through  the  universe 

"  I'll  sweep  my  darkening,  desolating  way, 

"  Weak  man  my  instrument,  cursed  man  my  prey ! 

"  Ye  wise,  ye  learned,  who  grope  your  dull  way  on 
"  By  the  dim  twinkling  gleams  of  ages  gone, 
"Like  superstitious  thieves,  w^ho  think' the  light 
"  From  dead  men's  marrow  guides  them  best  at  night  a — 
"  Ye  shall  have  honours — wealth, — yes.  Sages,  yes, — 
"  I  know,  grave  fools,  your  wisdom's  nothingness ; 
"Undazzled  it  can  track  yon  starry  sphere, 
"  But  a  gilt  stick,  a  bawble  blinds  it  here. 
"  How  I  shall  laugh,  when  trumpeted  along, 
"In  lying  speech,  and  still  more  lying  song, 
"By  these  learned  slaves,  the  meanest  of  the  throng; 
"  Their  wits  bought  up,  their  wisdom  shrunk  so  small, 
"  A  sceptre's  puny  point  can  wield  it  all ! 

"  Ye,  too,  believers  of  incredible  creeds, 
"  Whose  faith  enshrines  the  monsters  which  it  breeds  ; 
"  Who,  bolder  ev'n  than  Nemrod,  think  to  rise, 
"By  nonsense  heaped  on  nonsense,  to  the  skies ; 

a  A  kind  of  lantern  formerly  used  by  robbers,  called  the  Hand  of  Glory,  the 
candle  for  which  was  made  of  the  fat  of  a  dead  malefactor.  This,  however 
was  rather  a  western  than  an  eastern  superstition. 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KHORASSAN.       63 

"  Ye  shall  have  miracles,  ay,  sound  ones  too, 

"  Seen,  heard,  attested,  every  thuig, — but  true. 

"Your  preaching  zealots,  too  inspired  to  seek 

"  One  grace  of  meaning  for  the  things  they  speak ; 

"Your  martyrs,  ready  to  shed  out  their  blood, 

"  For  truths  too  heavenly  to  be  understood  ; 

"And  your  State  Priests,  sole  venders  of  the  lore 

"That  works  salvation; — as,  on  Ava's  shore, 

"Where  none  but  priests  are  privileged  to  trade 

"In  that  best  marble  of  which  Gods  are  made  ;* 

"They  shall  have  mysteries — ay,  precious  stuff 

"For  knaves  to  thrive  by — mysleries  enough  ; 

"  Dark,  tangled  doctrines,  dark  as  fraud  can  weave, 

"  Which  simple  votaries  shall  on  trust  receive, 

"While  craftier  feign  belief,  till  they  believe. 

"A  Heaven  too  ye  must  have,  ye  lords  of  dust, — 

"A  splendid  Paradise, — pure  souls,  ye  must: 

"  That  Prophet  ill  sustains  his  holy  call, 

"Who  finds  not  heavens  to  suit  the  tastes  of  all ; 

"Houris  for  boys,  omniscience  for  sages, 

"And  wings  and  glories  for  all  ranks  and  ages. 

"Vain  things! — as  lust  or  vanity  inspires, 

"The  heaven  of  each  is  but  what  each  desires. 


a  The  material  of  which  images  of  GauJma  (the  Birman  Deityl  are  made, 
is  held  sacred.  "Birmans  may  not  purchase  the  marble  in  mass,  but  are 
suffered,  and  indeed  encouraged,  to  buy  figures  of  tlie  Deity  readv  made  "— 
Symcs's  Ava,  vol.  il.  p.  376. 


04  LALLA    ROOKH. 


"  And,  soul  or  sense,  whate'er  the  object  be, 
<'Man  would  be  man  to  all  eternity! 
"  So  let  him — Eblis  !  grant  this  crowning  curse, 
"But  keep  him  what  he  is,  no  Hell  were  worse." 

"0  my  lost  soul!"  exclaimed  the  shuddering  maia, 
Whose  ears  had  drunk  like  poison  all  he  said: — 
MoKANNA  started — not  abashed,  afraid, — 
He  knew  no  more  of  fear  than  one  who  dwells 
Beneath  the  tropics  knows  of  icicles ! 
But,  in  those  dismal  words  that  reached  his  ear, 
"  0  my  lost  soul !"  there  was  a  sound  so  drear. 
So  like  that  voice,  among  the  sinful  dead. 
In  which  the  legend  o'er  Hell's  Gate  isread. 
That,  new  as  'twas  from  her,  whom  naught  could  dim 
Or  sink  till  now,  it  stai'tled  even  him. 

"Ha,  my  fair  Priestess!" — thus,  with  ready  wile, 
Th'  Impostor  turned  to  greet  her — "  tliou,  whose  smile 
"  Hath  inspiration  in  its  rosy  beam 
"  Beyond  th'  Enthusiast's  hope  or  Prophet's  dream ; 
"Light  of  the  Faith!  who  twin'st  religion's  zeal 
"  So  close  with  love's,  men  know  not  which  they  feel, 
"  Nor  which  to  sigh  for,  in  their  trance  of  heart, 
"The  heaven  thou  preachest  or  the  heaven  thou  art! 
"  What  should  I  be  without  thee  ?  without  thee 
"H^w  dull  were  power,  how  joyless  victory! 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KIIORASSAN.        ( 

Though  borne  by  angels,  if  that  smile  of  thine 

Blessed  not  my  banner,  'twere  but  half  divine. 

But — why  so  mournful,  child  ?  those  eyes  that  shone 

All  life  last  nigiit — what ! — is  their  glory  gone  ? 

Come,  come — this  morn's  fatigue  hath  made  them  pale 

They  want  rekindling — suns  themselves  would  fail 

Did  not  their  comets  bring,  as  I  to  thee. 

From  light's  own  fount  supplies  of  brilliancy. 

Thou  seest  this  cup — no  juice  of  earth  is  here, 

But  the  pure  waters  of  that  upper  sphere, 

Whose  rills  o'er  ruby  beds  and  topaz  flow, 

Catchmg  the  gem's  bright  colour,  as  they  go. 

Nightly  my  Genii  come  and  fill  these  urns — 

Nay,  drink — in«every  drop  life's  essence  burns; 

'Twill  make  that  soul  all  fire,  those  eyes  all  light — 

Come,  come,  I  want  thy  loveliest  smiles  to-night: 

There  is  a  youth — why  start  ? — thou  saw'st  him  then  ; 

Looked  he  not  nobly?  such  the  godlike  men 

Thou'lt  have  to  woo  thee  in  the  bowers  above ; — 

Though  //(?,  I  fear,  hath  thoughts  too  stern  for  love, 

Too  ruled  by  that  cold  enemy  of  bliss 

The  world  calls  virtue — we  must  conqi  er  this ; 

Nayy  shrink  not,  pretty  sage!  'tis  not  fcr  thee 

To  scan  the  mazes  of  heaven's  mystery : 

The  steel  must  pass  through  fire,  ere  it  can  yield 

Fit  mstruments  fir  mighty  hands  to  wield. 

f2 


66  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  O  K  H. 


"  This  very  night  I  mean  to  try  the  art 

"  Of  powerful  beauty  on  that  warrior's  heart. 

"All  that  my  Haram  boasts  of  bloom  or  wit, 

"  Of  skill  and  charms,  most  rare  and  exquisite, 

" Shall  tempt  the  boy; — young  Mirzala's  blue  eyes, 

"  Whose  sleepy  lid  like  snow  on  violets  lies ; 

"  Arouya's  cheeks,  warm  as  a  spring-day  sun, 

"And  lips  that,  like  the  seal  of  Solomon, 

"Have  magic  in  their  pressure;  Zeba's  lute, 

"And  Lilla's  dancing  feet,  that  gleam  and  shoot 

"  Rapid  and  white  as  sea-birds  o'er  the  deep — 

"  All  shall  combine  their  witching  powers  to  steep 

"My  convert's  spirit  in  that  softening  trance, 

"From  which  to  heaven  is  but  the  next  advance  ; — 

"That  glowing,  yielding  fusion  of  the  breast, 

"  On  which  Religion  stamps  her  image  best. 

"But  hear  me,  Priestess! — though  each  nymph  of  these 

"Hath  some  peculiar,  practised  power  to  please, 

"  Some  glance  or  step  which,  at  the  mirror  tried, 

"First  charms  herself,  then  all  the  world  beside; 

"  There  still  wants  one,  to  make  the  victory  sure, 

"  One  w^ho  in  every  look  joins  every  lure  : 

"  Through  whom  all  beauty's  beams  concentred  pass, 

"  Dazzling  and  warm,  as  through  love's  burning  glass  : 

"  Whose  gentle  lips  persuade  without  a  word, 

"Whose  words,  ev'n  when  unmeaning,  are  adored, 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KHORASSAN.      G7 

"  Like  inarticulate  breathings  from  a  shrine, 
"Which  our  faith  takes  for  granted  are  divine! 
"  Such  is  the  nymph  we  want,  all  warmth  and  lignt, 
"  To  crown  the  rich  temptations  of  to-night ; 
«  Such  the  refined  enchantress  that  must  be 
"This  hero's  vanquisher, — and  thou  art  she!" 


With  her  hands  clasped,  her  lips  apart  and  pale, 
The  maid  had  stood,  gazing  upon  the  Veil 
From  which  these  words,  like  south  winds  through  a  fence 
Of  Kerzrah  flowers,  came  filled  with  pestilence  ;  a 
So  boldly  uttered  too  !  as  if  all  dread 
Of  frowns  from  her,  of  virtuous  frowns,  were  fled, 
'  And  the  wretch  felt  assured  that,  once  plunged  in, 
Her  woman's  soul  would  know  no  pause  in  sin ! 

At  first,  though  mute  she  listened,  like  a  dream 
Seemed  all  he  said  ;  nor  could  her  mind,  whose  beam 
As  yet  was  wealc,  penetrate  half  his  scheme. 
But  when,  at  length,  he  uttered,  "  Thou  art  she  !" 
All  flashed  at  once,  and  shriek'ng  piteously, 
"  0,  not  for  worlds !"  she  cried — "  Great  God !  to  whom 
"I  once  knelt  innocent,  is  this  my  doom ? 
"  Are  all  my  dreams,  my  hopes  of  heavenly  bliss, 
«  My  purity,  my  pride,  then  come  to  this, — 

a  "  It  is  commonly  said  in  Persia,  that  if  a  man  breathe  in  tlic  hct  south 
wind,  which  in  Jure  or  July  passes  over  that  flower,  (the  Kerzereh,)  it  will  kLI, 
him." — Theveaot. 


Qfi  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 


"  To  live,  the  wanton  of  a  fiend  !  to  be 

"  The  pander  of  his  guilt — 0  infamy ! 

"  And  sunk,  myself,  as  low  as  hell  can  steep 

"  In  its  hot  flood,  drag  others  down  as  deep  ! 

"  Others — ha!  yes — that  youth  who  came  to-day — 

i^JVot  him  L loved — not  him — 0  !  do  but  say, 

"But  sw^ar  to  me  this  moment  'tis  not  he, 

"And  I  will  serve,  dark  fiend,  will  worship  even  thee !" 

"  Beware,  young  raving  thing ! — in  time  beware, 
"  Nor  utter  what  I  cannot,  must  not  bear, 
"  Ev'n  from  thy  lips.     Go — try  thy  lute,  thy  voice ; 
"The  boy  must  feel  their  magic  ; — I  rejoice 
"  To  see  those  fires,  no  matter  whence  they  rise, 
"  Once  more  illuming  my  fair  Priestess'  eyes  ; 
"  And  should  the  youth,  whom  soon  those  eyes  shall  warm^ 
"  Indeed  resemble  thy  dead  lover's  form, 
"  So  much  the  happier  wilt  thou  find  thy  doom, 
"As  one  warm  lover,  full  of  life  and  bloom, 
"Excels  ten  tliousand  cold  ones  in  the  tomb. 
"Nay,  nay,  no  frowning,  rveet; — those  eyes  were  maae 
"For  love,  not  anger — I  must  be  obeyed." 

"  Obeyed  ? — 'tis  well — yes,  I  deserve  it  all — 
"  On  me,  on  me  Heaven's  vengeance  cannot  fall 
"Too  heavily — but  Azim,  brave  and  true 
<«  And  beautiful — must  lie  be  ruined  too  ? 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KHORASSAN.       09 


"Must  he  too,  glorious  as  he  is,  be  driven 

«A  renegade  like  me  from  Love  and  Heaven? 

"  Like  me  ? — weak  wretch,  I  wrong  him — not  like  me 

"No — he's  all  truth  and  strength  and  purity  ! 

"Fill  up  your  maddening  hell-cup  to  the  brim, 

"  Its  witchery,  fiend,  will  have  no  charm  for  him. 

"Let  loose  your  glowing  wantons  from  their  bov/ers, 

"  He  loves,  he  loves,  and  can  defy  their  powers ! 

"  Wretch  as  I  am,  in  his  heart  still  I  reign 

"Pure  as  when  first  we  met,  without  a  stain ! 

"  Though  ruined — lost — my  memory,  like  a  charm 

"  Left  by  the  dead,  still  keeps  his  soul  from  harm. 

"  0  !  never  let  him  know  how  deep  the  brow 

"  He  kissed  at  parting  is  dishonoured  now  ; — 

"Ne'er  tell  him  how  debased,  how  sunk  is  she, 

"Whom  once  he  loved — once  ! — still  loves  dotingly. 

"Thou   laugh'st,  tormentor, — what! — thou'lt   brand  my 

name  ? 
"  Do,  do — in  vain — he'll  not  believe  my  shame — 
"  He  thinks  me  true,  that  naught  beneath  God's  sky 
<'  Could  tempt  or  change  me,  and — so  once  thought  L 
"But  this  is  past — though  worse  than  death  my  lot, 
"  Than  hell — 'tis  nothing  while  he  knows  it  not. 
"  Far  off  to  some  benighted  land  Pll  fly^, 
"Where  sunbeam  ne'er  shall  enter  till  I  die; 
"  Where  none  will  ask  the  lost  one  whence  she  came, 
"But  I  may  fade  and  fall  withou:  a  name. 


70  LALLAROOKH. 


"And  thou — cursed  nan  or  fiend,  ^Yhate'er  thou  art, 
<■<■  Who  found'st  this  burning  plague-spot  in  my  heart, 
"And  spread'st  it — 0,  so  quick! — through  soul  and  frame, 
"With  more  than  demon's  art,  till  I  became 
"A  loathsome  thing,  all  pestilence,  all  flame  ! — 

"If,  when  I'm  gone " 

"Hold,  fearless  maniac,  hold, 
"Nor  tempt  my  rage — by  Heaven,  not  half  so  bold 
"  The  puny  bird,  that  dai-es  with  teasing  hum 
"  Within  the  crocodile's  sti'etched  jaws  to  come !  ^ 
"  And  so  thou'lt  fly,  forsooth  ? — what ! — give  up  all 
"  Thy  chaste  dominion  in  the  Haram  Hall, 
"  Where  now  to  Love  and  now  to  Alla  given, 
"Half  mistress  and  half  saint,  thou  hang'st  as  even 
•■'As  doth  Medina's  tomb,  'twixt  hell  and  heaven! 
"  Thou'lt  fly  ? — as  easily  may  reptiles  run, 
"The  gaunt  snake  once  hath  fixed  his  eyes  upon; 
"  As  easily,  when  caught,  the  prey  may  be 
"  Plucked  from  his  loving  folds,  as  thou  from  me. 
"No,  no,  'tis  fixed — let  good  or  ill  betide, 
"  Thou'rt  mine  till  death,  till  death  Mokanna's  bride ! 
"  Hast  thou  forgot  thy  oath  ?"  — 

a  The  humming-bird  is  said  to  run  this  risk  for  the  purpose  of  picking  the 
crocodile's  teeth.  The  same  circumstance  is  related  of  the  lapwing,  as  a  fact 
to  which  he  was  witness,  by  Paul  Lucas,  Voyage  fait  en  1714. 

1  he  ancient  story  concerning  the  Trocliilus,  oi  humming-bird,  entering  with 
impunity  into  the  mouth  of  the  crocodile,  is  firmly  believed  at  Java. — Barroiv^t 
Coclin-China. 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KHOKASSAN.      ■}] 


At  this  dread  word, 
The  Maid,  whose  spirit  his  rude  taunts  had  stirred 
Through  all  its  depths,  and  roused  an  anger  tliere, 
That  burst  and  lightened  ev'n  through  her  despair, 
Shrunk  back,  as  it'  a  blight  were  in  the  breath 
That  spoke  that  word,  and  staggered  pale  as  death. 

"Yes,  my  sworn  bride,  let  others  seek  in  bowers 
'<  Their  bridal-place — the  charnel  vault  was  ours ! 
"  Instead  of  scents  and  balms,  for  thee  and  me 
"  Rose  the  rich  steams  of  sweet  mortality ; 
'•<■  Gay,  flickering  death-lights  shone  while  we  were  wed, 
"And,  for  our  guests,  a  row  of  goodly  Dead 
"  (Immortal  spirits  in  their  time,  no  doubt) 
"  From  reeking  shrouds  upon  the  rite  looked  out : 
"  That  oath  thou  heard'st  more  lips  than  thine  repeat — 
"That  cup — thou  shudderest,  Lady — was  it  sweet? 
"  That  cup  we  pledged,  the  charnel's  choicest  wine, 
"  Hath  bound  thee — ay — body  and  soul  all  mine ; 
"  Bound  thee  by  chains  that,  w'hether  blessed  or  cursed 
"  No  matter  now,  not  hell  itself  shall  burst ! 
"  Hence,  woman,  to  the  Haram,  and  look  gay, 
"  Look  wild,  look — any  thing  but  sad ;  yet  stay — 
"  One  moment  more — from  what  this  night  hath  passed, 
"  I  see  tliou  know'st  me,  know'st  me  well  at  last. 
"Ha!  ha!  and  so,  fond  thing,  thou  thought'st  all  true, 
"And  that  I  love  mankind? — I  do,  I  do — 


72 


LALLA    ROOKH. 


"  As  victims,  love  them ;  as  the  sea-dog  dotes 
"  Upon  the  small,  sweet  fry  that  round  him  floats ; 
"  Or,  as  the  Nile-bird  loves  the  slime  that  gives 
"  That  rank  and  venomous  food  on  which  she  lives  !a- 


"And,  now  thou  seest  my  souPs  angelic  hue, 
"  'Tis  time  these  features  were  uncurtained  too  ; — 
"  This  brow,  whose  light — 0  rare  celestial  light! — 
"  Hath  been  reserved  to  bless  thy  favored  sight ; 
"  These  dazzling  eyes,  before  whose  shrouded  might 
"  Thou'st  seen  immortal  Man  kneel  down  and  quake — 
"Would  that  they  v;ere  heaven's  lightnings  for  his  sake! 
"But  turn  and  look — then  wonder,  if  thou  wilt^ 
"  That  I  should  hate,  should  take  revenge,  by  guilt, 
"Upon  the  hand,  whose  mischief  or  whose  mirth 
"  Sent  me  thus  maimed  and  monstrous  upon  earth ; 
"  And  on  that  race  who,  though  more  vile  they  be 
"  Than  mowing  apes,  are  demigods  to  me  I 
"Here — judge  if  hell,  with  all  its  power  to  damn, 
"  Can  add  one  curse  to  the  foul  thing  I  am!" 


He  raised  his  veil — the  Maid  turned  slowly  round, 
Looked  at  him — shrieked — and  sunk  upon  the  ground! 


^  Circum  eas'lem  ripas  (Nili,  viz.)  ales  est  Ibis.     Ea  serpentium  populatur 
ova,  gratissimamque  ex  his  escam  nidis  suis  refert. — Soliims, 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KIIORASSAN.      73 


On  their  arrival,  nexi  night,  at  the  place  of  encampment, 
they  were  surprised  and  celighted  to  find  the  groves  all  around 
illuminated;  some  artists  of  Yamtcheou''  having  been  sent 
on  previously  for  the  purpose.  On  each  side  of  the  green 
alley,  which  led  to  the  Royal  Pavilion,  artificial  sceneries  of 
bamboo-work"  were  erected,  representing  arches,  minarets, 
and  towers,  from  which  hung  thousands  of  silken  lanterns, 
painted  by  the  most  delicate  pencils  of  Canton. — Nothing 
could  be  more  beautiful  than  the  leaves  of  the  mango-trees 
and  acacias,  shining  in  the  light  of  the  bamboo-scenery,  which 
shed  a  lustre  round  as  soft  as  that  of  the  nights  of  Peristan. 

Lalla  Rookh,  however,  who  was  too  much  occupied  by 
the  sad  story  of  Zelica  and  her  lover,  to  give  a  thought  to 


2- « The  Feast  of  Lanterns  is  celebrated  at  Yamtcheou  with  more  magnifi- 
cence than  any. 'here  el?e:  and  the  Tfipnt  goes,  that  the  illuminations  there  are 
so  splendid,  that  an  Emperor  once,  not  daring  openly  to  leave  his  Court  to  go 
thither,  committed  himself  with  the  Queen  and  several  Princesses  of  his  family 
into  the  hands  of  a  magician,  who  promised  to  transport  them  thither  in  a  tric&. 
He  made  them  in  the  night  to  ascend  magnificent  thrones  that  were  borne  up 
by  swans,  which  in  a  moment  arrived  at  Yamtcheou.  The  Emperor  saw  at  his 
leisure  all  the  solemnity,  being  carried  upon  a  cloud  that  hovered  over  the  city 
and  descended  by  degrees;  and  came  back  again  with  the  same  speed  and 
equipage,  nobody  at  court  perceiving  his  absence." — Tlie  Present  State  0/  China. 
p.  156. 

*>  See  a  description  of  the  nuptials  of  Vizier  Alee  in  the  Asiatic  Annual 
Register  of  1804. 


74  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

any  thing  else,  except,  perhaps,  him  who  related  it,  hurried 
on  through  this  S3ene  of  splendour  to  her  pavilion, — greatly 
to  the  mortification  of  the  poor  ailists  of  Yamtcheou, — and 
was  followed  with  equal  rapidity  by  the  Great  Chamberlain, 
cursing,  as  he  went,  that  ancient  Mandarin,  whose  parental 
anxiety  in  lighting  up  the  shores  of  the  lake,  where  his  beloved 
daughter  had  wandered  and  been  lost,  was  the  origin  of  these 
fantastic  Chinese  illuminations.'' 

Without  a  moment's  delay,  young  Feramorz  was  intro- 
duced, and  Fadladeen,  who  could  never  make  up  liis  mind 
as  to  the  merits  of  a  poet  till  he  knew  the  religious  sect  to 
which  he  belonged,  was  about  to  ask  him  whether  he  was  a 
Shia  or  a  Sooni,  when  Lalla  Rookii  impatiently  clapped  her 
hands  for  silence,  and  the  youth,  being  seated  upon  the  mus- 
nud  near  her,  proceeded : —  ■ 


"'  "  The  vulgar  ascribe  it  to  an  accident  that  happened  in  the  family  of  a 
famous  mandarin,  whose  daughter,  v/alking  one  evening  upon  the  shore  of  a  lake, 
fell  in  and  was  drowned ;  this  afflicted  father,  with  his  family,  ran  thither,  and, 
the  better  to  find  her,  he  caused  a  great  company  of  lanterns  to  be  lighted.  All 
the  inhabitants  of  the  place  thronged  after  him  with  torches.  The  year  ensuing 
they  made  fires  upon  the  shores  the  same  day ;  they  continued  the  ceremony 
every  year,  every  one  lighted  his  lantern,  and  by'  degrees  it  commenced  into  a 
custorj." — Present  Srate  of  China, 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KHORASSAN.       75 


Prepare  thy  soul,  young  Azim  ! — thou  hast  br?\ed 
The  bands  of  Greece,  still  mighty  though  enslaved  . 
Hast  faced  her  phalanx,  armed  with  all  its  fame, 
Her  Macedonian  pikes  and  globes  of  flame ; 
All  this  hast  fronted,  with  firm  heart  and  brow ; 
But  a  more  perilous  trial  waits  thee  now, — 
Woman's  bright  eyes,  a  dazzling  host  of  eyes 
From  every  land  where  woman  smiles  or  sighs ; 
Of  every  hue,  as  Love  may  chance  to  raise 
His  black  or  azure  banner  in  their  blaze ; 
And  each  sweet  mode  of  w^arfare,  from  the  flash 
That  lightens  boldly  through  the  shadowy  lash, 
To  the  sly,  stealing  splendours,  almost  hid, 
Like  sw^ords  half-sheathed,  beneath  the  downcast  lid ; 
Such,  Azim,  is  the  lovely,  luminous  host 
Now  led  against  thee ;  and,  let  conquerors,  boast 
Their  fields  of  fame,  he  who  in  virtue  arms 
A  young,  warm  spirit  against  beauty's  charms, 
Who  feels  her  brightness,  yet  defies  her  thrall, 
Is  the  best,  bravest  conqueror  of  them  all. 

Now,  through  the  Haram  chambers,  moving  lights 
And  busy  shapes  proclaim  the  toilet's  rites ; — 


76  LALLAROOKH. 

From  room  to  room  the  ready  handmaids  hie, 

Some  skilled  to  wreathe  the  turban  tastefully, 

Or  hang  the  veil,  in  negligence  of  shade, 

O'er  the  warm  blushes  of  the  youthful  maid, 

Who,  if  between  the  folds  but  o??e  eye  shone, 

Like  Seba's  Queen,  could  vanquish  with  that  one  :*— 

While  some  bring  leaves  of  Henna,  to  imbue 

The  fingers'  ends  with  a  bright  roseate  hue,^ 

So  bright,  that  in  the  mirror's  depth  they  seem 

Like  tips  of  coral  branches  in  the  stream : 

And  others  mix  the  Kohol's  jetty  dye, 

To  give  that  long,  dark  languish  to  the  eye,'' 

Which  makes  the  maids,  whom  kings  are  proud  to  cull 

From  fair  Circassia's  vales,  so  beautiful. 

All  is  in  motion ; — rings  and  plumes  and  pearls 

Are  shining  everywhere  : — some  younger  girls 


^  "  Thou  hast  ravished  my  heart  with  one  of  thine  eyes." — Sol.  Song. 

^  «  They  tinged  the  ends  of  her  fingers  scarlet  with  Henna,  so  that  they 
lesembled  branches  of  coraL" — Story  of  Prinre  Futtun  in  Bahardanush, 

c  "The  women  blacken  the  inside  of  their  eyelids  with  a  powder  named  the 
black  Kohol." — Russcl. 

"None  of  these  ladies,"  says  Shaiv,  "take  themselves  to  be  completely 
dressed,  till  they  have  tinged  the  hair  and  edges  of  their  eyelids  with  the  powder 
of  lead  ore.  Now,  as  this  operation  is  performed  by  dipping  first  into  the  pow- 
der a  small  wooden  bodlcin  of  the  thickness  of  a  quill,  and  then  drawing  it  after- 
wards through  the  eyelids  over  the  ball  of  the  eye,  we  shall  have  a  lively  image 
of  what  the  Prophet  (Jer.  iv.  30)  may  be  supposed  to  mean  by  rending  the  eyes 
uith  painting.  This  practice  is  no  doubt  of  gTeat  antiquity :  for  besides  Uie 
instance  already  taken  notice  of,  we  find  that  where  Jezebel  is  said  (2  Kings  ix. 
30)  to  have  painted  her  face,  the  original  words  are  she  adjusted  her  eyes  with  tht 
powder  of  lead  ore." — Shaw's  Travels. 


VEIIiED    PROPHET    OF    KHORASSAN. 


Are  gone  by  moonlight  to  the  garden-beds, 
To  eather  fresh,  cool  chaplets  for  their  heads  ; — 
Gay  creatures !  sweet,  though  mournful,  'tis  to  see 
How  each  prefers  a  garland  from  that  tree 
Which  brings  to  mind  her  childhood's  innocent  day, 
And  the  dear  fields  and  friendships  far  away. 
The  maid  of  India,  blessed  again  to  hold 
In  her  full  lap  the  Champac's  leaves  of  gold,^ 
Thinks  of  the  time  when,  by  the  Ganges'  flood, 
Her  little  playmates  scattered  many  a  bud 
Upon  her  long  black  hair,  with  glossy  gleam 
Just  dripping  from  the  consecrated  stream  ; 
While  the  young  Arab,  haunted  by  the  smell 
Of  her  own  mountain  flowers,  as  by  a  spell, — 
The  sweet  Elcaya,^  and  that  courteous  tree 
Which  bows  to  all  who  seek  its  canopy,*" — 
Sees,  called  up  round  her  by  these  magic  scents, 
The  well,  the  camels,  and  her  father's  tents  ; 
Sighs  for  the  home  she  left  with  little  pain, 
And  wishes  ev'n  its  sorrows  ':,ack  agam , 


a  "  The  appearance  of  the  blossoms  of  the  gold-coloured  Campac  on  the 
bla:k  hair  of  the  Indian  women  has  supplied  the  Sanscrit  Poets  with  many 
elegant  allusions." — See  ./Isiatic  Rcscarrlirs,  vol.  iv. 

t  A  tree  famous  for  its  perfume,  and  common  on  the  hills  of  i^^men. — 
Niebuhr. 

c  Of  the  genus  mimosa,  "  which  droops  its  branches  whenever  any  person 
approaches  it,  seeming  as  if  it  saluted  those  who  retire  under  its  shade'"  • 
Niebuhr. 

o2 


78  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

Meanwhile,  thrcugh  vast  illuminated  halls, 
Silent  and  bright,  where  nothing  but  the  falls 
Of  fragrant  waters,  gushing  with  cool  sound 
From  many  a  jasper  fount,  is  heard  around, 
Young  AziM  roams  bewildered, — nor  can  guess 
What  means  this  maze  of  light  and  loneliness. 
Here,  the  way  leads,  o'er  tessellated  floors 
Or  mats  of  Cairo,  through  long  corridors. 
Where,  ranged  in  cassolets  and  silver  urns, 
Sweet  wood  of  aloe  or  of  sandal  burns ; 
And  spicy  rods,  such  as  illume  at  night 
The  bowers  of  Tibet,^  send  forth  odorous  light. 
Like  Peris'  wands,  when  pointing  out  the  road 
For  some  pure  Spirit  to  its  blest  abode  : — 
And  here,  at  once,  the  glittering  saloon 
Bursts  en  his  sight,  boundless  and  bright  as  noon ; 
Where,  in  the  midst,  reflecting  back  the  rays 
In  broken  rainbows,  a  fresh  fountain  plays 
High  as  th'  enamelled  cupola,  which  towers 
All  rich  with  Arabesques  of  gold  and  flowers  : 
And  the  mosaic  floor  beneath  shines  through 
The  sprinkling  of  that  fountain's  silvery  dew. 
Like  the  wet,  glistening  shells,  of  every  dye, 
That  on  the  margin  of  the  Red  Sea  lie. 


a  «  Cloves  are  a  principal  ingredient  in  the  composition  of  the  perfumed 
rods,  which  men  of  rank  keep  constantly  burning  in  their  presence." — Turner's 
Tibet. 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KHORASSAN.      70 

Here  too  he  traces  the  kind  visitings 
Of  woman's  love  in  those  fair,  living  things 
Of  land  and  wave,  whose  fate — in  bondage  thrown 
For  their  weak  loveliness — is  like  her  own ! 
On  one  side  gleaming  with  a  sudden  grace 
Through  water,  brilliant  as  the  crystal  vase 
In  which  it  undulates,  small  fishes  shine, 
Like  golden  ingots  from  a  fairy  mine  ; — 
While,  on  the  oth?r,  latticed  lightly  in 
With  oderiferous  woods  of  Comorix," 
Each  brilliant  bird  that  wings  the  air  is  seen ; — 
Gay,  sparkling  loories,  such  as  gleam  between 
The  crimson  blossoms  of  the  coral-tree'' 
In  the  warm  isles  of  India's  sunny  sea ; 
Mecca's  blue  sacred  pigeon,"  and  the  ■'hrush 
Of  Hindostan,''  whose  holy  warblings  gush, 
At  evening,  from  the  tall  pagoda's  top  ; — ■ 
Those  golden  birds  that,  in  the  spice-time,  drop 
About  the  gardens,  drunk  with  that  sweet  food" 

a  «  C'est  d'ou  vient  le  bois  d'aloes,  que  Ics  Arabes  appellent  Oud  Comari,  et 
celui  du  sandal,  qui  s'y  trouve  en  grande  quantite." — D'JIerhclof. 

^  "  Thousands  of  variegated  loories  visit  the  coral-trees." — Barron: 

<=  « In  Mecca  there  are  quantities  of  blue  pigeons,  which  none  will  affright 
or  abuse,  much  less  kill." — Pities  Account  of  the  Mahometans. 

<^  "The  Pagoda  Thrush  is  esteemed  among  the  first  choristers  of  India.  It 
sits  perched  on  the  sacred  pagodas,  and  from  thence  delivers  its  melodious  song." 
— Pennant's  Hindostan. 

e  Tavcrnicr  adds,  that  while  the  Birds  of  Paradise  lie  in  this  mtoxicated 
state,  the  emmots  come  and  cat  off  their  legs ;  and  that  hence  it  is  they  are  said 
CO  have  no  feet. 


60  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 

Wliose  scent  hath  lured  them  o'er  the  summer  flood;" 

And  those  that  under  Araby's  soft  san 

Build  their  high  nests  of  budding  cinnamon  ;  ^ 

In  short,  all  rare  and  beauteous  things,  that  fly 

Through  the  pure  element,  here  calmly  lie 

Sleeping  in  light,  like  the  green  birds"  that  dwell 

In  Eden's  radiant  fields  of  asphodel! 

So  on,  through  scenes  past  all  imagining, 
More  like  the  luxuries  of  that  impious  king,*^ 
Whom  Death's  dark  Angel,  with  his  lightning  torch, 
Struck  down  and  blasted  ev'n  in  Pleasure's  porch, 
Than  the  pure  dwelling  of  a  Prophet  sent. 
Armed  with  Heaven's  sword,  for  man's  enfranchisement- 
Young  AziM  wandered,  looking  sternly  round, 
His  simple  garb  and  war-boots'  clanking  sound 
But  ill  according  with  the  pomp  and  grace 
And  silent  lull  of  that  voluptuous  place. 


^  Birds  of  Paradise,  which,  at  the  nutmeg  season,  come  in  flights  from  the 
southern  isles  to  India ;  and  "  the  strength  of  the  nutmeg,"  says  Tavcrnicr,  "  so 
intoxicates  them  that  they  fall  dead  drunk  to  the  earth." 

^  "  That  bird  which  liveth  m  Arabia,  and  buildeth  its  nest  with  cinnamon." — 
Brown^s  Vulgar  Errors. 

c  «  The  spirits  of  the  'martyrs  will  be  lodged  in  the  crops  of  green  birds." — • 
Gibbon,  vol.  ix.  p.  421. 

^  Shedad,  who  made  the  delicious  gardens  of  Trim,  in  imitation  of  Paradise, 
SJid  was  destroyed  b}'  lightning  the  first  tune  he  attempted  to  euter  them. 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KIIORASSAN.      §1 


"Is  this,  then,"  thought  the  youth,  "  is  this  the  way 
"  To  free  man's  spirit  from  the  deadening  sway 
"  Of  worldly  sloth, — to  teach  him,  while  he  lives, 
"  To  know  no  bliss  but  that  which  virtue  gives, 
"And  when  he  dies,  to  leave  his  lofty  name 
"A  light,  a  landmark  on  the  cliffs  of  fame  ? 
"It  was  not  so,  Land  of  the  generous  thought 
"  And  daring  deed,  thy  godlike  sages  taught ; 
"It  was  not  thus,  in  bowers  of  wanton  ease, 
"  Thy  Freedom  nursed  her  sacred  energies  ; 
"  0  !  not  beneath  th'  enfeeblinsr,  witherins:  o-low 
"  Of  such  dull  luxury  did  those  myrtles  grow, 
"  With  which  she  wreathed  her  sword,  when  she  would  dare 
"Immortal  deeds;  but  in  the  bracing  air 
"  Of  toll, — of  temperance, — of  that  high,  rare, 
"  Ethereal  virtue,  which  alone  can  breathe 
"  Life,  health,  and  lustre  into  Freedom's  wreath. 
"  Who,  that  surveys  this  span  of  earth  we  press, — 
"  This  speck  of  life  in  time's  great  wilderness, 
"  This  narrow  isthmus  'twixt  tw^o  boundless  seas, 
"  The  past,  the  future,  two  eternities ! — 
"  Would  sully  the  bright  spot,  or  leave  it  bare, 
"  When  he  might  build  him  a  proud  temple  there, 
"A  name,  that  long  shall  hallow  all  its  space. 
"And  be  each  purer  soul's  high  resting-place? 
"But  no — it  cannot  be,  that  one,  w^hom  God 
"  Has  sent  to  break  the  wizard  Falsehood's  rod, — 


82  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

<' A  Prophet  of  the  truth,  whose  mission  draws 

<'  Its  rites  from  Heaven,  should  thus  profane  its  cause 

"  With  the  world's  vulgar  pomps  ; — no,  no, — I  see — 

"  He  thinks  me  weak — this  glare  of  luxury 

"  Is  but  to  tempt,  to  try  the  eaglet  gaze 

"Of  my  young  soul — shine  on,  'twill  stand  the  blaze!" 


So  thought  the  youdi : — but,  ev'n  while  he  defied 
This  witching  scene,  he  felt  its  witchery  glide 
Through  every  sense.     The  perfume  breathing  round, 
Like  a  pervading  spirit ; — the  still  sound 
Of  falling  waters,  lulling  as  the  song 
Of  Indian  bees  at  sunset,  when  they  throng 
Around  the  fragrant  Nilica,  and  deep 
In  its  blue  blossoms  hum  themselves  to  sleep ; " 
And  music,  too — dear  music  !  that  can  touch 
Beyond  all  else  the  soul  that  loves  it  much — 
Now  heard  far  off,  so  far  as  but  to  seem 
Like  the  faint,  exquisite  music  of  a  dream ; — 
All  was  too  mucii  for  him,  too  full  of  bliss ; 
The  heart  could  nothing  feel,  that  felt  not  this  ; 
Softened,  he  sunk  upon  a  couch,  and  gave 
His  soul  up  to  sweet  thoughts,  like  wave  on  wave 


*  « My  Pandits  assure  me  that  the  plant  before  us  (the  Nilica)  is  then 
Sephalica,  thus  named  because  the  bees  are  supposed  to  sleep  on  its  blossoms."— 
Sir  W.  Jones. 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    K  II  0  R  A  S  S  A  N.       &a 

Succeeding  in  smooth  seas,  when  storms  are  laid ; 
He  thought  of  Zelica,  his  own  deai-  maici, 
And  of  the  time  when,  full  of  blissful  sighs, 
They  sat  and  looked  into  each  other's  eyes. 
Silent  and  happy — as  if  God  had  given 
Naught  else  worth  looking  at  on  this  side  heaven. 


"  0  my  loved  mistress,  thou,  whose  spirit  stik 
"  Is  with  me,  round  me,  wander  where  I  will — 
"It  is  for  thee,  for  thee  alone  I  seek 
"  The  paths  of  glory  ;  to  light  up  thy  cheek 
•'With  warm  approval — in  that  gentle  look, 
"  To  read  my  praise,  as  in  an  angel's  book, 
"  And  think  all  toils  rewarded,  when  from  tnee 
•'I  gain  a  smile  worth  immortality ! 
"  How  snail  I  bear  the  moment,  when  restored 
<'  To  that  young  heart  where  I  alone  am  Lord, 
"  Though  of  such  bliss  unworthy, — since  the  best 
"  Alone  deserve  to  be  the  happiest ; — 
"When  from  those  lips,  unbreathed  upon  for  years, 
"I  shall  again  kiss  off  the  soulfelt  tears, 
"  And  find  those  tears  warm  as  when  last  they  started, 
"  Those  sacred  kisses  pure  as  when  we  parted ! 
"  0  my  own  life! — why  should  a  single  day, 
"  A  moment  keep  me  from  those  arms  away  ?" 


g4  LALLA    ROOKH. 


While  thus  he  thinks,  still  nearer,  on  the  breeze, 
Come  those  delicious,  dreamlike  harmonies. 
Each  note  of  which  but  adds  new,  downy  links 
To  the  soft  chain  in  which  his  spirit  sinks. 
He  turns  him  toward  the  sound,  and  far  away 
Through  a  long  vista,  sparkling  with  the  play 
Of  countless  lamps, — like  the  rich  track  which  Day 
Leaves  on  the  waters,  when  he  sinks  from  us, 
So  long  the  path,  its  light  so  tremulous, — 
He  sees  a  group  of  female  forms  advance, 
Some  chained  together  in  the  mazy  dance 
By  fetters  forged  in  the  green  sunny  bowers, 
As  they  were  captives  to  the  King  of  Flowers  ;* 
And  some  disporting  round,  unlinked  and  free. 
Who  seemed  to  mock  their  sisters'  slavery; 
And  round  and  round  them  still,  in  wheeling  flight 
Went,  like  gay  moths  about  a  lamp  at  night ; 
While  others  waked,  as  gracefully  along 
Their  feet  kept  time,  the  very  soul  of  song 
From  psaltery,  pipe,  and  lutes  of  heavenly  thrill. 
Or  their  own  youthful  voices,  heavenlier  still. 
And  now  they  come,  now  pass  before  his  eye. 
Forms  such  as  Nature  moulds,  when  she  would  vie 
With  Fancy's  pencil,  and  give  birth  to  things 
Lovely  beyond  its  fairest  picturings. 

a  « They  deferred  it  till  the  King  of  Flowers  should  ascend  his  throne  of 
enamelled  foliage." — The  Bahardauush, 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KH  OR  ASS  AN         Su 

Awhile  they  dance  before  him,  then  divide, 
Breaking,  hke  rosy  clouds  at  eventide 
Around  the  rich  pavilion  of  the  sun, — 
Till,  silently  dispersing,  one  by  one, 
Through  many  a  path,  that  from  the  chamber  leads 
To  gardens,  terraces,  and  moonlight  meads. 
Their  distant  laughter  comes  upon  the  wind. 
And  but  one  trembling  nymph  remains  behind, — 
Beckoning  them  back  in  vain,  for  they  are  gone, 
And  she  is  left  in  all  that  light  alone ; 
No  veil  to  curtain  o'er  her  beauteous  brow, 
In  its  young  bashfulness  more  beauteous  now ; 
But  a  light  golden  chain-work  round  her  hair,* 
Such  as  the  maids  of  Yezd^  and  Shiraz  wear. 
From  which,  on  either  side,  gracefully  hung 
A  golden  amulet,  in  th'  Arab  tongue, 
Engraven  o'er  with  some  immortal  line 
From  Holy  Writ,  or  bard  scarce  less  divine ; 
While  her  left  hand,  as  shrinkingly  she  stood. 
Held  a  small  lute  of  gold  and  sandal-wood. 
Which,  once  or  twice,  she  touched  witli  hurried  stram, 
'    Then  took  her  trembling  fingers  off  again. 

"•"One  of  the  head-tlresses  of  the  Persian  women  is  composed  of  a  light 
golJen  chain-work,  set  with  small  pearls,  with  a  thin  gold  plate  pendant,  about 
the  bigness  of  a  crown-piece,  on  which  is  impressed  an  Arabian  prayer,  and 
which  hangs  upon  the  check  below  the  ear." — Hamnn/s  Travels. 

^  "  Certainly  the  women  of  Yezd  are  the  handsomest  women  in  Persia 
The  proverb  is,  that  to  live  happy  a  man  must  have  a  wife  of  Yezd,  cat  the 
bn.ad  of  Yezdecas,  and  drink  tlie  wine  of  Shiraz." — Tavemier, 

H 


S6  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

But  when  '^t  length  a  timid  glanc^  she  stole 

At  AziM,  l.ie  sweet  gravity  of  soul 

She  saw  through  all  his  features,  calmed  her  fear. 

And,  like  a  half-tamed  antelope,  more  near, 

Though  shrinking  still,  she  came ; — then  sat  her  down 

Upon  a  musnud's'^  edge,  and  bolder  grown, 

In  the  pathetic  mode  of  Isfahan'' 

Touched  a  preluding  strain,  and  thus  began : — 


There's  a  bower  of  roses  by  Bendemeer's''  stream, 
And  the  nightingale  sings  round  it  all  the  day  long; 

In  the  time  of  my  childhood  'twas  like  a  sweet  dream, 
To  sit  in  the  roses  and  hear  the  bird's  song. 

That  bower  and  its  music  I  never  forget, 

But  oft  when  alone,  in  the  bloom  of  the  year, 

I  think — Is  the  nightingale  singing  there  yet  ? 

Are  the  roses  still  bright  by  the  calm  Bendemeer  r 

No,  the  roses  soon  withered  that  hung  o'er  the  wave, 
But  some  blossoms  were  gathered,  while  freshly  they 
shone, 

a  Musnuds  are  cushioned  seats,  usually  reserved  for  persons  of  distinction. 

t>  The  Persians,  like  the  ancient  Greeks,  call  their  musical  modes  or  Perdal 
fey  the  name  of  different  countries  or  cities,  as  the  mode  of  Isfahan,  the  mode  (d 
Irak,  &c. 

c  A  river  which  flow^s  near  ihe  ruins  of  Clulminar. 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    K  PI  O  R  A  S  S  A.  N. 

/Vnd  a  dew  was  distilled  from  their  flowers,  that  gave 
All  the  fragrance  of  summer,  when  summer  was  gone. 

Thus  memory  draws  from  delight,  ere  it  dies, 
An  essence  that  breathes  of  it  many  a  year ; 

Thus  bright  to  my  soul,  as  'twas  then  to  my  eyes. 
Is  that  bower  on  the  banks  of  the  calm  Bendemeer  ! 


"Poor  maiden!"  thought  the  youth,  "if  thou  wert 
sent, 
<' With  thy  soft  lute  and  beauty's  blandishment, 
<'  To  wake  unholy  wishes  in  this  heart, 
•'  Or  tempt  its  truth,  thou  little  know'st  the  art. 
"For  though  thy  lip  should  sweetly  counsel  wrong, 
"Those  vestal  eyes  would  disavow  its  song. 
"  But  thou  hast  breathed  such  purity,  thy  lay 
"Returns  so  fondly  to  youth's  virtuous  day, ' 
"And  leads  thy  soul — if  e'er  it  wandered  thence — 
"  So  gently  back  to  its  first  innocence, 
"That  I  would  sooner  stop  the  unchained  dove, 
"  When  swift  returning  to  its  home  of  love, 
"  And  round  its  snowy  wdng  new  fetters  twine, 
"Than  turn  from  virtue  one  pure  wish  of  thine!" 

Scarce  had  this  feeling  passed,  when,  sparkling  through 
The  gently  opened  curtiins  of  hght  blae 


S8  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

That  veiled  \he  breezy  casement,  countless  eyes, 

Peeping  like  stars  through  the  blue  evening  skies, 

Looked  laughing  in,  as  if  to  mock  the  pair 

That  sat  so  still  and  melancholy  there : —  ' 

And  now  the  curtains  fly  apart,  and  in 

From  the  cool  air,  'mid  showers  of  jessamine 

Which  those  without  fling  after  them  in  play. 

Two  lightsome  maidens  spring, — lightsome  as  they 

Who  live  in  th'  air  on  odours, — and  around 

The  bright  saloon,  scarce  conscious  of  the  ground, 

Chase  one  another,  in  a  varying  dance 

Of  mirth  and  languor,  coyness  and  advance. 

Too  eloquently  like  love's  warm  pursuit : — 

While  she,  who  sung  so  gently  to  the  lute 

Her  dream  of  home,  steals  timidly  away, 

Shrinking  as  violets  do  in  summer's  ray, — 

But  takes  with  her  from  Azim's  heart  that  sigh 

We  sometimes  give  to  forms  that  pass  us  by 

In  the  world's  crowd,  too  lovely  to  remain 

Creatures  of  lio'ht  we  never  see  a2:ain ! 

Around  the  white  necks  of  the  nymphs  Avho  danced 
Hung  carcanets  of  orient  gems,  that  glanced 
More  brilliant  than  the  sea-glass  fflitterine:  o'er 
The  hills  of  crystal  on  the  Caspian  shore  ;  •'' 

a  "To  the  north  of  us  (on  the  coast  of  the  Caspian,  near  Badku'v  was  a 
mountain,  which  sparkled  like  diamonds,  arising  from  the  sea-glass  and  cr\'«*al' 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    K  H  0  R  A  S  S  A  X.       S9 


While  from  their  long,  dark  tresses,  in  a  fall 

Of  curls  descending,  bells  as  musical 

As  those  that,  on  tl  e  golden-shafted  trees 

Of  Eden,  shake  m  the  eternal  breeze,'' 

Rung  round  their  steps,  at  every  bound  more  sweet, 

As  'twere  th'  ecstatic  language  of  their  feet. 

At  length  the  chase  was  o'er,  and  they  stood  wreathed 

Within  each  other's  arms;  while  soft  there  breathed 

Through  the  cool  casement,  mingled  whh  the  sighs 

Of  moonlight  flowers,  music  that  seemed  to  rise 

From  some  still  lake,  so  liquidly  it  rose ; 

And,  as  it  sv;elled  again  at  each  faint  close. 

The  ear  could  track  through  all  that  maze  of  chords 

And  young  sweet  voices,  these  impassioned  words : — 

A  Spirit  there  is,  whose  fragrant  sigh 

Is  burning  now  through  earth  and  air ; 
Where  cheeks  are  blushing,  the  Spirit  is  nigh. 

Where  lips  are  meeting,  the  Spirit  is  there ! 

His  breath  is  the  soul  of  flowers  like  these, 
And  his  floating  eyes — 0  !  tliey  resemble'' 

with    wliich    it    abounds." — Journey   of  the    Russian   Ambassador   to   Persia, 
1746. 

a  "To  which  will  be  ailded  the  sound  of  the  bells,  hanging  on  the  trees, 
wliich  will  be  put  in  motion  by  the  wind  proceeding  from  the  throne  of  God, 
as  often  as  the  blessed  wish  for  music." — Sale. 

b  "  V'^'hose  want,  n  e3'es  resemble  blue  waf er-Ulies,  agitated  by  the  orccze." — 
Jayadi^iS. 

h2 


90  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 

Blue  water-lilits,"  ^Yhen  the  breeze 

Is  making  llie  stream  around  them  tremble. 

Hail  to  thee,  hail  to  thee,  kindling-power! 

Spirit  of  Love,  Spirit  of  Bliss ! 
Thy  holiest  time  is  ihe  moonlight  hour, 

And  there  never  was  moonlight  so  sweet  as  Uiis 

By  the  fair  and  brave 

Who  blushing  unite, 
Like  the  sun  and  wave, 

When  they  meet  at  night : — 

By  the  tear  that  show^s 

When  passion  is  nigh, 
As  the  rain- drop  flows 

From  the  heat  of  the  sk}  ; — 

By  the  first  love-beat 

Of  the  youthful  heart, 
By  the  bliss  to  meet, 

And  the  pain  to  part ; — 

By  all  that  thou  hast 
To  mortals  given, 

*  'I'he  blue  lotos,  which  grows  in  Cashmere  and  in  Peraa. 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KHORASSAN.       q| 

Which — 0,  could  it  last, 
This  earth  were  heaven ! 

"We  call  thee  hither,  entrancing  Power ! 

Spirit  of  Love !  Spirit  of  Bliss ! 
Thy  holiest  time  is  the  moonlight  hour, 

And  there  never  vras  moonlio-ht  so  sweet  as  tliis ! 


Impatient  of  a  scene,  whose  luxuries  stole, 
Spite  of  himself,  too  deep  into  his  soul, 
And  where,  midst  all  that  the  young  heart  loves  most, 
Flowers,  music,  smiles,  to  yield  was  to  be  lost, 
The  youtli  had  started  up,  and  turned  away 
From  the  light  nymphs,  and  their  luxurious  lay, 
To  muse  upon  the  pictures  that  hung  round,'' — 
Bright  images,  that  spoke  without  a  sound, 
And  views,  like  vistas  into  fairy  ground. 
But  here  again  new  spells  came  o'er  his  sense  :• — • 
All  that  the  pencil's  mute  omnipotence 
Could  call  up  into  life,  of  soft  and  fair, 
Of  fond  and  passionate,  was  glowing  there ; 


»  It  has  been  generally  supposed  that,  the  Mahometans  prohibit  all  pictures 
ol  animals ;  but  Todcrini  shows  that,  though  the  practice  is  ibrludJen  by  the 
Koran,  they  are  not  more  averse  to  painted  figures  and  images  than  other 
people.  From  Mr.  Murphy's  work,  too,  we  find  that  the  Arabs  of  Spain  haJ 
no  objection  to  the  introduction  of  figures  into  painting. 


02  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  11. 


Nor  yet  too  warm,  but  touched  with  that  fine  art 

Which  paints  of  pleasure  but  the  purer  part ; 

Which  knows  ev'n  Beauty  when  half- veiled  is  best, — 

Like  her  own  radiant  planet  of  the  w^est, 

Whose  orb  when  half  retired  looks  loveliest.' 

There  hung  the  history  of  the  Genii- King, 

Traced  through  each  gay,  voluptuous  wandering 

With  her  from  Saba's  bowers,  in  whose  bright  eyes 

He  read  that  to  be  blessed  is  to  be  wise  ;  ^' 

Here  fond  Zuleika  '^  woos  with  open  arms 

The  Hebrew  boy,  who  flies  from  her  young  charms, 

Yet,  flying,  turns  to  gaze,  and,  half  undone, 

Wishes  that  heaven  and  she  could  both  be  won  ; 

■*  This  is  not  quite  astronomically  true.  "  Dr.  Hadley  (says  Keil)  has  shown 
thi^j  Venus  is  brightest  when  she  is  about  forty  degrees  removed  from  the  sun ; 
and  that  then  but  oiilij  a  fourth  pan  of  her  lucid  disk  is  to  be  set.i  from  the 
earth." 

^  For  the  loves  of  King  Solomon  (who  was  supposed  to  preside  over  the 
whole  race  of  Genii)  with  Balkis,  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  or  Saba,  see  D'Hcrbclot, 
and  the  Notes  on  the  Koran,  chap.  2. 

« In  the  palace  which  Solomon  ordered  to  be  built  against  the  arrival  of  the 
Queen  of  Saba,  the  floor  or  pavement  was  of  transparent  glass,  laid  over  running 
water,  in  which  fish  were  swimming."  This  led  the  Queen  into  a  very  natural 
mistake,  which  the  Koran  has  not  thought  beneath  its  dignity  to  commemorate. 
« It  was  said  unto  h'er,  <  Enter  the  palace.'  And  when  she  saw  it  she  imagined 
it  to  be  a  great  water ;  and  she  discovered  her  legs  by  lifting  up  her  robe  to  pass 
through  it.  Whereupon  Solomon  said  to  her,  <  Verily,  this  is  the  place  evenly 
floored  with  glass.'  " — Chap.  27. 

<^  The  wife  of  Potiphar,  thus  named  by  the  Orientals. 

"The  passion  which  this  frail  beauty  of  antiquity  conceived  for  her  young 
Hebrew  slave  has  given  rise  to  a  much  esteemed  poem  in  the  Persian  language, 
entitled  Yusef  van  Zclikha,  by  Noureddin  Jami;  the  manuscript  copy  of  which, 
in  the  Bodleian  Library  at  Oxford,  is  supposed  to  be  the  finest  in  the  whole 
world." — Note  upon  NotCs  Translation  of  Hafez. 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KIIORASSAN       {i'.\ 

And  here  Mohammed,  born  for  love  and  guile, 
Forgets  the  Koran  in  his  Mary's  smile ; — 
Then  beckons  some  kind  angel  from  above 
With  a  new  text  to  consecrate  iheir  love.'* 

With  rapid  sl^ep,  yet  pleased  and  lingering  eye, 
Did  the  yoiitli  pass  these  pictured  stories  by, 
And  hastened  to  a  casement,  where  the  light 
Of  the  calm  moon  came  in,  and  freshly  bright 
The  fields  without  were  seen,  sleeping  as  still 
As  if  no  life  remained  in  breeze  or  rill. 
Here  paused  he,  while  the  music,  now  less  near, 
Breathed  with  a  holier  language  on  his  car. 
As  though  the  distance,  and  that  heaverdy  ray 
Through  which  the  sounds  came  floating,  took  away 
All  that  had  been  too  earthly  in  the  lay. 

0  !  could  he  listen  to  such  sounds  unmoved. 
And  by  that  light — nor  dream  of  her  he  loved  ? 
Dream  on,  unconscious  boy!  while  yet  thou  may'st; 
'Tis  the  last  bliss  thy  soul  shall  ever  taste. 
Clasp  yet  av.hile  her  image  to  thy  heart 
Ere  all  the  light,  that  made  it  dear,  depart. 


a  Tlie  particulars  of  Mahomet's  amour  with  Mary,  the  Coptic  girl,  m  justiC 
cation  of  which  he  added  a  new  chapter  to  the  Koran,  may  be  found  in  Gagnie 
Notes  upon  Abulfcda,  p.  151. 


04  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

Think  of  her  smiles  as  when  thou  saw'st  them  last, 
Clear,  beautiful,  by  naught  of  earth  o'ercast; 
Recall  her  tears,  to  thee  at  parting  given. 
Pure  as  they  weep,  if  angels  weep,  in  heaven. 
Think,  in  her  own  still  bower  she  waits  thee  now. 
With  the  same  glow  of  heart  and  bloom  of  brow, 
Yet  shrined  in  solitude — thine  all,  thine  only. 
Like  the  one  star  above  thee,  bright  and  lonely. 
0  that  a  dream  so  sweet,  so  long  enjoyed. 
Should  be  so  sadly,  cruelly  destroyed ! 

The  song  is  hushed,  the  laughing  nymphs  are  flown, 
And  he  is  left,  musing  of  bliss,  alone ; — 
Alone  ? — no,  not  alone — that  heavy  sigh, 
That  sob  of  grief,  which  broke  from  some  one  nigh — 
Whose  could  it  be  ? — alas !  is  misery  found 
Here,  even  here,  on  this  enchanted  ground  ? 
He  turns,  and  sees  a  female  form,  close  veiled. 
Leaning,  as  if  both  heart  and  strength  had  failed, 
Agamst  a  pillar  near; — not  glittering  o'er 
With  gems  and  wreaths,  such  as  the  others  wore, 
But  in  that  deep-blue  melancholy  dress,'' 
Bokhara's  maidens  wear  in  mindfulness 
Of  friends  or  kindred,  dead  or  far  away ; — 
And  such  as  Zelica  had  on  that  day 

a  «  Deep  blue  is  their  mourning  colour." — Hanvoaj/, 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    K  II  O  R  A  S  S  A  N.        (jr\ 

He  left  her — when,  with  heart  too  full  to  speak, 
He  took  away  her  last  warm  tears  upon  his  cheek. 

A  strange  emotion  stirs  within  him, — more 
Than  mere  compassion  ever  waked  before ; 
Unconsciously  he  opes  his  arms,  whilg  she 
Springs  forward,  as  with  life's  last  energy, 
But,  swooning  in  that  one  convulsive  bound. 
Sinks,  ere  she  reach  his  arms,  upon  the  ground ; — 
Her  veil  falls  off — her  faint  hands  clasp  his  knees — 
'Tis  she  herself! — 'tis  Zelica  he  sees! 
But,  ah,  so  pale,  so  changed — none  but  a  lover 
Could  in  that  wTCck  of  beauty's  shrine  discover 
The  once  adored  divinity — ev'if  he 
Stood  for  some  moments  mute,  and  doubtingly 
Put  back  the  ringlets  from  her  brow,  and  gazed 
.  Upon  those  lids,  where  once  such  lustre  blazed 
Ere  he  could  think  she  was  indeed  his  own. 
Own  darling  maid,  whom  he  so  long  had  known 
In  joy  and  sorrow,  beautiful  in  both ; 
Who,  ev'n  when  grief  was  heaviest — when  loath 
He  left  her  for  the  wars — in  that  worst  hour 
Sat  in  her  sorrow  like  the  sweet  nicrht-flower,* 
When  darkness  brings  its  weeping  glories  out, 
And  spreads  its  sighs  like  frankincense  about. 

»  The    sorrowful  nyctaiithes,  wliich  begins  to  spread  its   rich  odour  altci 
Ejnset. 


OU  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

<'  Look  up,  my  Zelica — one  moment  show 
"  Those  gentle  eyes  to  me,  that  I  may  know 
"  Thy  life,  thy  loveliness  is  not  all  gone, 
'•  But  there^  at  least,  shines  as  it  ever  shone. 
"  Come,  look  upon  thy  Azim — one  dear  glance, 
"Like  those  of  old,  were  heaven!  whatever  chance 
"Hath  brought  thee  here,  0,  'twas  a  hlessed  one! 
"  There — my  loved  lips — they  move — that  kiss  hath  run 
"  Like  the  first  shoot  of  life  through  every  vein, 
"And  now  I  clasp  her,  mine,  all  mine  again. 
"  0  the  delight — now,  in  this  very  hour, 
"When,  had  the  whole  rich  world  been  m  my  power, 
"I  should  have  sing'ed  out  thee,  only  thee, 
"From  the  whole  world's  collected  treasury — 
"  To  have  thee  here — to  hang  thus  fondly  o'er 
"My  own  best,  purest  Zelica  once  more!" 


It  was  indeed  the  touch  of  those  fond  lips 
Upon  her  eyes  that  chased  their  short  eclipse, 
And,  gradual  as  the  show,  at  heaven's  breath. 
Melts  off  and  shows  the  azure  flowers  beneath, 
Her  lids  unclosed,  and  the  bright  eyes  were  seen 
Gazing  on  his — not,  as  they  late  had  been, 
Quick,  restless,  wild,  but  mournfully  serene : 
As  if  to  lie,  ev'n  for  that  tranced  minute. 
So  near  his  heart,  had  consolation  in  it ; 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    :CHORASSAN       97 

And  thus  to  wake  in  his  beloved  caress 
Took  from  her  soul  one  half  its  wretchedness. 
But,  when  she  heard  him  Ccill  her  good  and  pure, 
0,  'twas  too  much — too  dreadful  to  endure ! 
Shuddering  she  broke  away  from  his  embrace, 
And,  hiding  with  both  hands  her  guilty  face. 
Said,  in  a  tone  whose  anguish  would  have  riven 
A  heart  of  very  marble,  "Pure! — 0  heaven!" — 

That  tone — those  looks    so   changed — the  withering 
blight, 
That  sin  and  sorrow  leave  where'er  they  light ; 
The  dead  despondency  of  those  sunk  eyes. 
Where  once,  had  he  thus  met  her  by  surprise, 
He  would  have  seen  himself,  too  happy  boy, 
Reflected  in  a  thousand  lights  of  joy ; 
And  then  the  place, — that  bright,  unholy  place. 
Where  vice  lay  hid  beneath  each  winning  grace 
And  charm  of  luxury,  as  the  viper  weaves 
Its  wily  covering  of  sweet  balsam  leaves," — 
All  struck  upon  his  heart,  sudden  and  cold 
As  death  itself; — it  needs  not  to  be  told — 
No,  no — he  sees  it  all,  plain  as  the  brand 
Of  burning  shame  can  mark — w^hate'er  '.he  hand. 


a  "Concerning  the  vipers,  which  Pliny  says  were  frequent  among  the 
balsam-trees,  I  maJe  very  particular  inquiry ;  several  were  brougnt  me  alive 
both  to  Yambo  and  Jidda." — Bruce. 

I 


98  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 

That  could  from  heaven  and  him  such  brightness  sever, 
'Tis  done — to  heaven  and  him  she's  lost  for  ever ! 
It  was  a  dreadful  moment ;  not  the  tears, 
The  lingering,  lasting  misery  of  years 
Could  match  that  minute's  anguish — all  the  worst 
Of  sorrow's  elements  in  that  dark  burst 
Broke  o'er  his  soul,  and,  with  one  crash  of  fate. 
Laid  the  whole  hopes  of  his  life  desolate. 

"  0 !  curse  me  not,"  she  cried,  as  wild  he  tossed 
His  desperate  hand  towards  heaven — "though  I  am  lost, 
"  Think  not  that  guilt,  that  falsehood  made  me  fall ; 
■-'No,  no — 'twas  grief,  'twas  madness  did  it  all! 
"Nay,  doubt  me  not — though  all  thy  love  hath  ceased— 
"  I  know  it  hath — yet,  yet  believe,  at  least, 
"  That  every  spark  of  reason's  light  must  be 
"  Quenched  in  this  brain,  ere  I  could  stray  from  thee.  ■ 
"  They  told  me  thou  wert  dead — why,  Azim,  why 
"Did  we  not,  both  of  us.  that  instant  die 
"  When  we  were  parted  ?     0  !  couldst  thou  but  know 
"With  what  a  deep  devotedness  of  woe 
"  I  wept  thy  absence — o'er  and  o'er  again 
"Thinking  of  thee,  still  thee,  till  thought  grew  pain, 
"  And  memory,  like  a  drop  that,  night  and  day, 
"  Falls  cold  and  ceaseless,  wore  my  heart  away. 
"Didst  thou  but  know  how  pale  I  sat  at  home, 
"  My  eyes  still  turned  the  way  thou  wer*^  to  come, 


VEILED    P  R  0  P  11  E  i     OF    K  11  O  R  A  S  S  A  N.      f){) 

"  And,  all  the  long,  long  night  of  hope  and  fear, 
<<  Thy  voice  and  step  still  sounding  in  my  ear — 
"  0  God !  thou  Avouldst  not  wonder  that,  at  last, 
"  When  every  hope  was  all  at  once  o'ercast, 
"When  I  heard  frightful  voices  round  me  say, 
"  ^zim  is  dead  ! — this  wretched  brain  gave  way, 
"  And  I  became  a  wreck,  at  random  driven, 
"  Without  one  glimpse  of  reason  or  of  heaven — 
"All  wild — and  ev'n  this  quenchless  love  within 
"  Turned  to  foul  fires  to  light  me  into  sin ! — 
"Thou  pitiest  me — I  knew  thou  wouldst — that  sky 
"  Hath  naught  beneath  it  half  so  lorn  as  1. 
"  The  fiend,  who  lured  me  hither — hist !  come  near 
"  Or  thou  too,  thou  art  lost,  if  he  should  hear — 
"  Told  me  such  things — 0 !  with  such  devilish  art, 
"As  would  have  ruined  ev'n  a  holier  heart — 
"  Of  thee,  and  of  that  ever-radiant  sphere, 
"  Where  blessed  at  length,  if  I  but  served  him  here, 
"I  should  for  ever  live  in  thy  dear  sight, 
"  And  drink  from  those  pure  eyes  eternal  light. 
"  Think,  think  how  lost,  how  maddened  I  must  be, 
"  To  hope  tliat  guilt  could  lead  to  God  or  thee ! 
"  Thou  weep'st  for  me — do  weep — 0  that  I  durst 
"Kiss  off  that  tear!  but,  no — these  lips  are  cursed; 
"  They  must  not  touch  thee ; — one  divine  caress, 
"  One  blessed  moment  of  forgetfulness 


100  LALLA    KOOKH. 

"  I've  had  within  those  arms,  and  that  shall  lie, 

"  Shrined  in  my  soul's  deep  memory  till  I  die; 

"  The  last  of  joy's  last  relics  here  below, 

"  The  one  sweet  drop,  in  all  this  waste  of  woe, 

"  My  heart  has  treasured  from  affection's  spring, 

"To  soothe  and  cool  its  deadly  withering! 

"But  thou — yes,  thou  muG:  go — for  ever  go, 

"  This  place  is  not  for  thee — for  thee !  0,  no  ; 

"  Did  I  but  tell  thee  half,  thy  tortured  brain 

"Would  burn  like  mine,  and  mine  go  wild  again! 

"Enough,  that  Guilt  reigns  here — that  hearts,  once  good, 

"  Now  tainted,  chilled,  and  broken,  are  his  food. — 

"  Enough,  that  we  are  parted — that  there  rolls 

"  A  flood  of  headlong  fate  between  our  souls, 

"  Whose  darkness  severs  me  as  wide  from  thee 

"As  hell  from  heaven,  to  all  eternity!" 

"Zelica,  Zelica!"  the  youth  exclaimed. 
In  all  the  tortures  of  a  mind  inflamed 
Almost  to  madness — -'by  that  sacred  heaven, 
"  Where  yet,  if  prayers  can  move,  thou'lt  be  forgiven, 
"As  thou  art  here — here,  in  this  writhing  heart, 
^'  All  sinful,  wdid,  and  ruined  as  thou  art ! — 
"By  the  remembrance  of  our  once  pure  love, 
"Which,  like  a  churchyard  light,  still  burns  above 
"  The  grave  of  our  lost  souls — which  guilt  in  thee 
"  Cannot  extinguish,  nor  despair  in  me ! — 


VEILED    PKOPHET    OF    K  H  O  R  A  S  S  A  N.    lOJ 


"I  do  conjure,  implore  thee  to  fly  hence; 

"  If  thou  hast  yet  one  spark  of  innocence,    J  I  ... .    . 

" Fly  with  me  from  this  place "          ^., 

"  With  the'eJ*  0 1)11585  :*  ij  •• 

"  'Tis  worth  whole  years  of  torment  to  hear  this. 

"  What !  take  the  lost  one  with  thee  ? — let  her  rove 

" By  thy  dear  side,  as  in  those  days  of  lo\e, 

"  When  we  were  hoth  so  happy,  both  so  pure — 

"  Too  heavenly  dream !  if  there's  on  earth  a  cure 

"  For  the  sunk  heart,  'tis  this — day  after  day 

"  To  be  the  blest  companion  of  thy  way ; 

"  To  hear  thy  angel  eloquence — to  see 

"  Those  virtuous  eyes  for  ever  turned  on  me  ; 

"And,  in  their  light  re-chastened  silently, 

"Like  the  stained  web  that  whitens  in  the  sun, 

"  Grow  pure  by  being  purely  shone  upon ! 

"  And  thou  wilt  pray  for  me — I  know  thou  wilt : 

"At  the  dim  vesper  hour,  when  thoughts  of  guilt 

"  Come  heaviest  o'er  the  heart,  thou'lt  lift  thine  eyes, 

"  Full  of  sweet  tears,  unto  the  darkening  skies, 

"  And  plead  for  me  with  Heaven,  till  I  can  dare 

"  To  fix  my  own  weak,  sinful  glances  tliere  ; 

"  Till  the  good  angels,  when  they  see  me  cling 

"  For  ever  near  thee,  pale  and  sorrowing, 

"  Shall  for  thy  sake  pronounce  my  soul  forgiven, 

"  And  bid  thee  take  thy  weeping  slave  to  heaven . 

"  0  yes,  I'll  fly  with  tl.ge " 

I2 


102  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

Scarce  had  she  said 
These  breathless  words,  when  a  voice  deep  and  dread 
As'thaf  of  Mo;nker,  waking  up  the  dead 
-';  'i5'roh^;th.e?Vfirsi;  sleep — so  starthng  'twas  to  both — 

Rung  through  the  casement  near,  "  Thy  oath  !  thy  oath!" 

O  Heaven,  the  ghasthness  of  that  Maid's  look ! — 

"  'Tis  he,'   faintly  she  cried,  while  terror  shook 

Her  inmost  core,  nor  durst  she  lift  her  eyes, 

Though  through  the  casement,  now,  naught  but  the  skies 

And  moonlight  fields  were  seen,  calm  as  before — 

"  'Tis  he,  and  I  am  his — all,  all  is  o'er! 

"  Go — fly  this  instant,  or  thou'rt  ruined  too — 

"My  oath,  my  oath,  0  God!  'tis  all  too  true, 

"  True  as  the  worm  in  this  cold  heart  it  is — • 

<'  I  am  Mokanna's  bride — his,  Azim,  his — 

"  The  Dead  stood  round  us,  while  I  spoke  that  vow, 

"  Their  blue  lips  echoed  it — I  hear  them  now ! 

"  Their  eyes  glared  on  me,  while  I  pledged  that  bowl — 

"  'Twas  burning  blood — I  feel  it  in  my  soul! 

"And  the  Veiled  Bridegroom — hist!  I've  seen  to-night 

"What  angels  know  not  of — so  foul  a  sight, 

"  So  horrible — 0  !  never  mayst  thou  see 

"  What  there  lies  hid  from  all  but  hell  and  me ' 

"  But  I  must  hence — Off,  off — I  am  not  thine, 

"  Nor  Heaven's,  nor  Love's,  nor  aught  that  is  divine ! 

"Hold  me  not — Ha!  think'st  thou  the  fiends  that  sever 

*< Hearts,  canrot  sunder  hands? — Thus,  then — for  ever!" 


/£lLFO    PHOPIlET    OF    K  H  O  .R  A  S  i^  A  N.    }oi 


With  all  that  strength  which  madness  lends  tlie  weak, 
3I1C  Ci.r;/  aw  ir  his  arm,  a'ld-  xt\:  a  shriek, 
Whose  I'ound.  though  he  should  linger  out  more  years 
Than  WTetch  e'er  told,  can  never  leave  his  ears — 
Flew  up  tlirough  that  long  avenue  of  light. 
Fleetly  as  some  dark,  ominous  bird  of  night 
Across  the  sun,  and  soon  was  out  cf  .^igkt ! 


^04  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 


Lalla  Rookh  could  think  of  nothing  all  day  but  th$ 
misery  of  these  two  young  lovers.  Her  gayety  was  gone, 
and  she  looked  pensively  even  upon  Fadladeen.  She  felt, 
too,  without  knowing  why,  a  sort  of  uneasy  pleasure  in 
imagining  that  Aziai  must  have  been  just  such  a  youth  as 
Feb.amoiiz  ;  just  as  worthy  to  enjoy  all  the  blessings,  without 
'aP-j  of  the  ps.rxgs.  of  that  illusive  passion,  which  too  often, 
like  the  sunny  apples  of  Istkaliar,^  is  all  sweetness  on  one 
sic'.e,  a;.*.'  all  bitten. /ios  on  the  othe.*. 

As  they  passed  along  a  sequestered  river  after  sunset, 
they  saw  a  young  Hindoo  girl  upon  the  banJc,''  whn<;e 
emplo^ymeni  seemed  to  them  so  Swange,  that  they  stopped 
dieir  palankeens  to  observe  her.  She  had  lighted  a  small 
lamp,  filled  with  oil  of  cocoa,  and,  placing  >t  in  an  earthen 
dish,  adorned  with  a  wreath  of  flowers,  had  committed  it 
with  a  trembling  hand  to  the  stream ;  and  was  now  anxiously 
=vatching  its  progress  down  the  current,  heedless  of  the  gay 
avalcade  which  had  drawn  up  beside  her.     Lalla  Rookh 


:  « In  the  territory  of  Istkahar  there  is  a  kind  of  apple,  half  of  wliich  is  sweet 
and  naif  sour." — Ebn  Haukal. 

^  For  an  account  of  tliis  ceremony,  see  Grandpre's  Voyage  in  the  Indian 
Ocean. 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    K  II  0  R  A  S  S  A  N.      IQ^ 

was  all  curiosity; — when  one  of  her  attendants,  who  had 
lived  upon  the  banks  of  tlie  Ganges,  (where  this  ceremony  is 
so  frequent,  that  often,  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  the  river 
is  seen  glittering  all  over  with  lights,  like  the  Oton-tala  or 
Sea  of  Stars,*)  informed  the  Princess  that  it  was  the  usual  way 
in  which  the  friends  of  those  who  had  gone  on  dangerous 
voyages  offered  up  vows  for  their  safe  return.  If  the  lamp 
sunk  immediately,  the  omen  was  disastrous:  but  if  it  went 
shinmg  down  the  stream,  and  continued  to  burn  till  entirely 
out  of  sight,  the  return  of  the  beloved  object  was  considerea 
as  certain. 

Lalla  Rookh,  as  they  moved  on,  more  than  once  looked 
back,  to  observe  how  the  young  Hindoo's  lamp  proceeded ; 
and,  while  she  saw  ^^^th  pleasure  that  it  was  still  unextin- 
guished, she  could  not  help  fearing  that  all  the  hopes  of  this 
life  were  no  better  than  that  feeble  light  upon  the  river.  The 
remainder  of  the  journey  was  passed  in  silence.  She  now, 
for  the  first  time,  felt  that  shade  of  melancholy,  which  comes 
over  the  youtliful  maiden's  heart,  as  sweet  and  transient  as 
her  own  breath  upon  a  mirror;  nor  was  it  till  she  heard 
the  lute  of  Feramorz,  touched  lightly  at  the  door  of  her 
pavilion,  that  she  waked  from  the  reverie  in  which  she  had 


a  "  The  place  where  the  Whangho,  a  river  of  Tibet,  rises,  and  where  there 
are  more  than  a  hundred  sjjrings,  which  sparkle  like  stars ;  whence  it  is  called 
Hotun-nor,  that  is.  the  Sea  of  Stars." — Description  of  Tibet  hi  Pinkerlon. 


106  LALLA    ROOKH. 

been  wandering.  Instantly  her  eyes  were  lighted  up  with 
pleasure ;  and,  after  a  few  unheard  remarks  from  Fapladeen 
upon  the  indecorum  of  a  poet  seating  himself  in  presence 
of  a  Princess,  every  thing  was  arranged  as  on  the  preceding 
evening,  and  all  listened  with  eagerness,  while  the  story  was 
thus  contmueci: — 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KHORASSAN.     107 


Whose  are  the  gilded  tents  tliat  crowd  the  way, 
Where  all  was  waste  and  silent  yesterday  ? 
This  City  of  War  which,  in  a  few  short  hours, 
Hath  sprung  up  here,*  as  if  the  magic  powers 
Of  Him  who,  in  the  twinkling  of  a  star, 
Built  the  high  pillared  halls  of  Chilmixar,^ 


a^"The  Lescar  or  Imperial  Camp  is  divided,  like  a  regular  town,  into 
squares,  alleys,  and  streets,  and  from  a  rising  ground  furnishes  one  of  the  most 
agreeable  prospects  in  the  world.  Starting  up  in  a  few  hours  in  an  uninhabited 
plain,  it  raises  the  idea  of  a  city  built  by  enchantment.  Even  those  who  leave 
their  houses  in  cities  to  follow  the  prince  in  his  progress,  are  frequently  so 
charmed  with  the  Lescar,  when  situated  in  a  beautiful  and  convenient  place 
that  they  cannot  prevail  with  themselves  to  remove.  To  prevent  this  inconve- 
nience to  the  court,  the  Emperor,  after  sufficient  time  is  allowed  to  the  tradesmen 
to  follow,  orders  them  to  be  burnt  out  of  their  tents." — Dotv's  Hindostan. 

Colonel  Wilks  gives  a  lively  picture  of  an  Eastern  encampment: — "His 
camp,  like  that  of  most  Indian  armies,  exhibited  a  motley  collection  of  covers 
from  the  scorching  sun  and  dews  of  the  night,  variegated  accorduig  to  the  taste 
or  means  of  each  individual,  by  extensive  enclosures  of  coloured  calico  surround- 
ing superb  suites  of  tents;  by  ragged  cloths  or  blankets  stretclied  over  sticks  or 
Dranches;  palm  leaves  hastily  spread  over  siir.ilar  supports;  handsome  tents  and 
splendid  canopies;  horses,  oxen,  elephants,  and  camel?;  a!]  intermixtd  wiJiout 
any  exterior  mark  of  order  or  design,  except  tlie  flogj:  of  thr  chi^-f-,  which  ususd'.J 
mark  the  centres  of  a  congerie5  of  these  masBv^s,  the  only  regular  part  ol  llm 
encampment  being  the  streets  of  shops,  each  of  which  if  constructe  1  near!;'  in 
the  manner  of  a  booth  at  an  English  fair." — Histon<ul  Skecd.t,  •»/  ih  Soi-.h  :•? 
India. 

t  The  edifices  of  Chilminar  and  Calbrc  c:o  sv.  .-.>jd  co  hs-zj  bet-n  fu'ill  l.j 
the  Genii,  acting  under  the  orders  of  Jan  hcu  Js^ViL-)  ^jvcmed  tU-  wcr'.l  I-:.-; 
before  the  tiu'-^  of  Adam. 


108  LALLA    ROOKH 

Had  conjured  up,  far  as  the  eye  can  r.^''., 

This  world  of  tents,  and  domes,  and  ^-i-Jjiight  ariQOU, 

Pruacely  pavilions,  screened  by  many  a  fold 

Of  crimson  cloth,  and  topped  with  balls  of  gold :— - 

Steeds,  with  their  housings  of  rich  silver  spm^ 

Their  chains  and  poitrels  glittering  in  tlie  sun ; 

And  camels,  tufted  o'er  \vith  Yemen's  shells,** 

Shaking  in  every  breeze  their  light-toned  bells . 

But  yester-eve,  so  motionless  around, 
So  mute  was  this  wide  plain,  that  not  a  sound 
But  the  far  torrent,  or  the  locust  bird" 
Hunting  among  the  thickets,  could  be  heard ; — 
Yet  hark !  what  discords  now,  of  every  kind, 
Shouts,  laughs,  and  screams  are  revelling  in  the  wind: 
The  neigh  of  cavalry ; — the  tinkling  throngs 
Of  laden  camels  and  their  drivers'  songs ;  "^ — 


a  «  A  superb  camel,  ornamented  with  strings  and  tufts  of  small  shells." — 
AH  Bey. 

^  A  native  of  Khorassan,  and  allured  southward  by  means  of  the  water  of  a 
fountain  between  Shiraz  and  Ispahan,  called  the  Fountain  of  Birds,  of  which  it 
is  so  fond  that  it  will  follow  wherever  that  water  is  carried. 

c  «  Some  of  the  camels  have  bells  about  their  necks,  and  some  about  their 
legs,  like  those  which  our  carriers  put  about  their  fore-horses'  necks,  which, 
together  with  the  servants  (who  belong  to  the  camels,  and  travel  on  foot)  singing 
all  nighf,  make  a  pleasant  noise,  and  the  journey  passes  away  delightfully." — • 
Pitt's  Account  of  the  Mahometans. 

«  The  camel-driver  follows  the  camels  singing,  and  sometimes  playing  upon 
his  pipe  ;  the  louder  he  sings  and  pipes,  the  faster  the  camels  go.  Nay,  they 
»7ill  stand  still  when  he  gives  over  his  music." — Tavernier. 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    K  H  O  R  A  S  S  A  N.     IQU 

Ringing  of  arms,  and  flapping  in  the  breeze 
Of  streamers  from  ten  thousand  canopies  ; — 
War-music,  bursting  out  from  time  to  time, 
With  gong  and  tymbalon's  tremendous  chime ; — 
Or,  in  the  pause,  when  harsher  sounds  are  mute, 
The  mellow  breathings  of  some  horn  or  flute. 
That  far  off,  broken  by  the  eagle  note 
Of  th'  Abyssinian  trumpet,^  swell  and  float. 


Who  leads  this  mighty  army ! — ask  ye  "  who  ?^' 
And  mark  ye  not  those  banners  of  dark  hue, 
The^ight  and  Shadow,^  over  yonder  tent  ? — 
It  is  the  Caliph's  glorious  armament. 
Roused  in  his  Palace  by  the  dread  alarms, 
That  hourly  came,  of  the  false  Prophet's  arms, 
And  of  his  host  of  infidels,  who  hurled 
Defiance  fierce  at  Islam,*"  and  the  world, — 
Though  worn  with  Grecian  warfare,  and  behind 
The  veils  of  his  bright  Palace  calm  reclined. 
Yet  brooked  he  not  such  blasphemy  should  stain, 
Thus  unrevenged,  the  evening  of  his  reign ; 


a  "This  trumpet  is  often  called,  in  Abyssinia,  Mf^ycr  ca jio^  which  signitics 
tt\e  Note  of  the  Eagle." — Note  of  Bikcc's  Editor. 

^  The  two  black  standards  borne  before  the  Caliphs  of  the  House  of  Abbas 
were  called,  allegorically,  The  Night  and  The  Shadow. — See  Gibbmu 

c  The  Mahometiui  reUgion. 

E 


1 10  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  IT. 

But,  having  sworn  upon  the  Holy  Grave* 
To  conquer  or  to  perish,  once  more  gave 
His  shadowy  banners  proudly  to  the  breeze, 
And  with  an  army  nursed  in  victories. 
Here  stands  to  crush  the  rebels  that  o'errun 
His  blest  and  beauteous  Province  of  the  Sun. 

Ne'er  did  the  march  of  Mahadi  display 
Such  pomp  before ; — not  ev'n  when  on  his  way 
To  Mecca's  Temple,  wlien  both  land  and  sea 
Were  spoiled  to  feed  the  Pilgrim's  luxury ;  ^ 
When  round  him,  mid  the  burning  sands,  he  saw 
Fruits  of  the  North  in  icy  freshness  thaw. 
And  cooled  his  thirsty  lip,  beneath  the  glow 
Of  Mecca's  sun,  with  urns  of  Persian  snow : " — • 
Nor  e'er  did  armament  more  grand  than  that 
Pour  from  the  kingdoms  of  the  Caliphat. 
First,  in  the  van,  the  People  of  the  Rock,'* 
On  their  light  mountain  steeds,  of  royal  stock  ;  ® 


a  « The  Persians  swear  by  the  Tomb  of  Shah  Bes-adc,  who  is  buried  at 
Casbin ;  and  when  one  desires  another  to  asseverate  a  matter,  he  will  ask  him 
if  he  dare  swear  by  the  Holy  Grave." — Sfrity. 

b  Mahadi,  in  a  single  pilgrimage  to  Mecca,  expended  six  millions  of  dinars 
of  gold. 

c  Nivem  Meccam  apportavit,  rem  ibi  aut  nunquam  aut  raro  visam. — Mulfeda. 

<*  The  inhabitants  of  Hejaz  or  Arabia  Petrjea,  called  by  an  Eastern  writer 
«  The  People  of  tlie  Rock." — Ebii  Haiikal. 

e  « Those  horses,  called  by  the  Arabians  Kochlani,  of  whom  a  written 
genealogy  has  been  kept  for  two  thousand  years.  They  are  said  to  derive  theu 
origin  from  King  Solomon's  steeds." — Niebuhr. 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KHORASSAN.      m 


Then,  chieftains  of  Damascus,  proud  to  see 
The  flashing  of  their  swords'  rich  marquetry ;  ^ 
Men  from  the  regions  near  the  Volga's  mouth. 
Mixed  witli  the  rude,  black  archers  of  the  South ; 
And  Indian  lancers,  in  \vhite-turbaned  ranks. 
From  the  far  Sinde,  or  Attock's  sacred  banks, 
With  dusky  legions  from  the  Land  of  Myrrh,^ 
And  many  a  mace-aitned  Moor,  and'Mid-sea  islander. 


Nor  less  in  number,  though  more  new  and  rude 
In  warfare's  school,  was  the  vast  multitude 
That,  fired  by  zeal,  or  by  oppression  wronged. 
Round  the  white  standard  of  th'  Impostor  thronged, 
Beside  his  thousands  of  Believers — blind. 
Burning  and  headlong  as  the  Sarniel  wind — 
Many  who  felt,  and  more  who  feared  to  feel 
The  bloody  Islamite's  converting  steel. 
Flocked  to  his  banner; — Chiefs  of  th'  Uzbek  race, 
Waving  their  heron  crests  with  martial  gi'ace  ; " 
Turkomans,  countless  as  their  flocks,  led  forth 
From  th'  aromatic  pastures  of  the  North ; 


^  «  Many  of  the  fibres  on  the  blaJcs  of  their  swords  are  wrought  in  gold 
or  silver,  or  in  marquetry  with  small  gems." — Asiat.  Misc.  v.  1. 

i>  Azab  or  Saba. 

<!  "The  chiefs  of  the  Uzbek  Tartars  wear  a  plume  of  white  heron's  feathers 
in  their  turbans." — Account  of  Independent  Tarturtj. 


112  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 

Wild  warriors  of  the  turquoise  hills,'' — and  those 
Who  dwell  beyond  the  everlasting  snows 
Of  Hindoo  Kosii,''  in  stormy  freedom  bred, 
Their  fort  the  rock,  their  camp  the  torrent's  bed. 
But  none,  of  all  who  owned  the  Chief's  command, 
Rushed  to  that  battle-field  with  bolder  hand. 
Or  sterner  hate,  than  Iran's  outlawed  men, 
Her  Worshippers  of  Fire*^ — all  panting  then 
For  vengeance  on  th'  accursed  Saracen ; 
Vengeance  at  last  for  their  dear  country  spurned 
Her  throne  usurped,  and  her  bright  shrines  o'erturned. 
From  Yezd's*^  eternal  Mansion  of  the  Fire, 
Where  aged  saints  in  dreams  of  heaven  expire ; 
From  Badku,  and  those  fountains  of  blue  flame 
That  burn  into  the  Caspian,''  fierce  tliey  came, 

a  In  the  mountains  of  Nishapour  and  Tous  (in  Khorassan)  they  find  tur- 
quoises.— Ebn  Haukal. 

b  For  a  description  of  these  stupendous  ranges  of  mountains,  see  Elplnn- 
stone's  Caubul. 

c  The  Ghebers  or  Guebres,  those  original  natives  of  Persia,  who  adhered  to 
their  ancient  faith,  the  rehgion  of  Zoroaster,  and  who,  after  the  conquest  of  their 
country  by  the  Arabs,  were  either  persecuted  at  home,  or  forced  to  become  wan- 
derers abroad. 

d  "  Yczd,  the  chief  residence  of  those  ancient  natives,  who  worship  the  Sun 
and  the  Fire,  which  latter  they  have  carefully  kept  lighted,  without  being  once 
extinguished  for  a  moment,  about  three  thousand  years,  on  a  mountain  near 
Y'ezd,  called  Atcr  Quedah,  signifying  the  House  or  Mansion  of  the  Fire.  He 
is  reckoned  very  unfortunate  who  dies  off  that  mountain." — Stephens  Persia. 

e  « When  the  weather  is  hazy,  the  springs  of  naplitha  (on  an  island  near 
Baku)  boil  up  the  higher,  and  the  naphtha  often  takes  fire  on  the  surface  of  the 
earth,  and  runs  in  a  flame  into  the  sea  to  a  distance  almost  incredible." — Han 
tsay  on  the  Everlasting  Fire  at  Baku. 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    K  H  O  K  A  S  S  A  N.      113 


Careless  for  wliat  or  whom  the  blow  was  sped. 
So  vengeance  triumphed,  and  their  tyrants  bled. 

Such  was  the  wild  and  miscellaneous  host, 
That  high  in  air  their  motley  banners  tossed 
Around  the  Prophet-Chief — all  eyes  still  bent 
Upon  that  glittering  Veilj  where'er  it  went, 
That  beacon  through  the  battle's  stormy  flood, 
Tiiat  rainbow  of  the  field,  whose  showers  w^ere  blood ' 

Twice  hath  the  sun  upon  their  conflict  set, 
And  risen  again,  and  found  them  grappling  yet; 
While  streams  of  carnage,  in  his  noontide  blaze, 
Smoke  up  to  heaven — hot  as  that  crimson  haze, . 
By  which  the  prostrate  Caravan  is  awed,'' 
In  the  red  Desert,  when  the  wind's  abroad. 
"  On,  Swords  of  God  !"  the  panting  Caliph  calls, 
"Thrones  for  the  living — heaven  for  him  who  falls!" — 
"  On,  brave  avengers,  on,"  Mokanna  cries, 
"  And  Eblis  blast  the  recreant  slave  that  flies!" 
Now  comes  the  brunt,  the  crisis  of  the  day — 
They  clash — they  strive — the  Caliph's  troops  give  way ! 


a  Sovarrj  says  of  the  south  wind,  which  blows  in  Egypt  from  February  to 
May,  "Sometimes  it  appears  only  in  the  shape  of  an  impetuous  wliirlwind, 
which  passes  rapidly,  and  is  fatal  to  the  traveller,  surprised  in  the  middle  of  the 
deserts.  Torrents  of  burning  sand  roll  before  it,  the  firmament  is  enveloped 
in  a  tliick  veil,  a^nd  the  sun  appears  of  the  colour  of  blood.  Sometimes  whole 
caiavans  are  buried  in  it." 

k3 


11^  L  A  L  I.  A    R  O  0  K  H. 


Mokanna's  self  plucks  the  black  Banner  down, 

And  now  the  Orient  World's  Imperial  crown 

Is  just  within  his  grasp — when,  hark,  that  shout ! 

Some  hand  hath  checked  the  flying  Moslem's  rout ; 

And  now  they  turn,  they  rally — at  their  head 

A  warrior,  (like  those  angel  youths  who  led. 

In  glorious  panoply  of  Heaven's  own  mail, 

The  Champions  of  the  Faith  through  Beder's  vale,'') 

Bold  as  if  gifted  with  ten  thousand  lives,  ^ 

Turns  on  the  fierce  pursuers'  blades,  and  drives 

At  once  the  multitudinous  torrent  back — 

While  hope  and  courage  kindle  in  his  track ; 

And,  at  each  step,  his  bloody  falchion  makes 

Terrible. vistas  through  which  victory  breaks! 

In  vain  Mokanna,  midst  the  general  flight. 

Stands,  like  the  red  moon,  on  some  stormy  night, 

Among  the  fugitive  clouds,  that,  hurrying  by, 

Leave  only  her  unshaken  in  the  sky — 

In  vain  he  yells  his  desperate  curses  out, 

Deals  death  promiscuously  to  all  about. 

To  foes  that  charge  and  coward  friends  that  fly, 

And  seems  to  all  the  Great  Arch-enemy. 

The  panic  spreads — "A  miracle!"  throughout 

The  Moslem  ranks,  "a  miracle!"  they  shout, 

^  In  the  groat  victory  gained  by  Mahomed  at  Beder,  he  was  assisted,  say  the 
Mussuhuans,  Dy  three  thousand  angels,  led  by  Gabriel,  mounted  on  his  horse 
Hiazum. — Seo  The  Koran  and  its  Commentators. 


VEILED    PKOPIIET    OF    K  H  0  R  A  S  S  A  W.      ng 


All  gazing-  on  that  youth,  whose  coming  seems 
A  light,  a  glory,  such  as  breaks  in  dreams ; 
And  every  sword,  true  as  o'er  billows  dim 
The  needle  tracks  the  load-star,  following  liim ! 


Right  towards  Mokanna  now  he  cleaves  his  path, 
Impatient  cleaves,  as  though  the  bolt  of  wrath 
He  bears  from  Heaven  withheld  its  awful  burst 
From  weaker  heads,  and  souls  but  halfway  cursed, 
To  break  o'er  Him,  the  mightiest  and  the  worst! 
But  vain  his  speed — though,  in  that  hour  of  blood, 
Had  all  God's  seraphs  round  Mokanna  stood. 
With  swords  of  fire,  ready  like  fate  to  fall, 
Moxanna's  soul  would  have  defied  them  all. 
Yet  now,  the  rush  of  fugitives,  too  strong 
For  human  force,  hurries  ev'n  him  alonsr : 
In  vain  he  struggles  mid  the  wedged  array 
Of  flying  thousands — he  is  borne  away ; 
And  the  sole  joy  his  baffled  spirit  knows. 
In  this  forced  flight,  is — murdering  as  he  goes ! 
As  a  grim  tiger,  whom  the  torrent's  might 
Surprises  in  some  parched  ravine  at  night. 
Turns,  ev'n  in  drowning,  on  the  wretched  flocks, 
Swept  with  him  in  that  snow-flood  from  the  rocks, 
And,  to  the  last,  devouring  on  his  way. 
Bloodies  the  stream  he  hath  not  power  to  stay. 


IIG  L  ALL  A    RO  0  h  IL 

'<'Alla  ilia  Alia!" — the  glad  shout  renew— 
"  Alia  Akbar  !"  '^ — the  Caliph's  in  Merou. 
Hang  out  your  gilded  tapestry  in  the  streets, 
And  light  your  shrines  and  chant  your  ziraleets," 
The  Swords  of  God  have  triumphed — on  his  throne 
Your  Caliph  sits,  and  the  Veiled  Chief  hath  flown. 
Who  does  not  envy  that  young  warrior  now, 
To  whom  the  Lord  of  Islam  bends  his  brow, 
In  all  the  graceful  gratitude  of  power, 
For  his  throne's  safety  in  that  perilous  hour? 
Who  doth  not  wonder,  when,  amidst  th'  acclaim 
Of  thousands,  heralding  to  heaven  his  name, — 
Mid  all  those  holier  harmoi  ies  of  fame, 
Which  sound  along  the  path  of  virtuous  souls, 
Like  music  round  a  planet  as  it  rolls, — 
He  turns  aAvay — coldly,  as  if  some  gloom 
Hung  o'er  his  heart  no  triumphs  can  illume  ; — 
Some  sightless  grief,  upon  whose  blasted  gaze 
Though  glory's  light  may  play,  in  vain  it  plays. 
Yes,  wretched  Azim  !  thine  is  such  a  grief. 
Beyond  all  hope,  all  terror,  all  relief; 
A  dark,  cold  calm,  which  nothing  now  can  break, 
Or  warm,  or  brighten, — like  that  Syrian  Lake," 

a  The  Tecbir,  or  cry  of  the  Arabs.  "  Alia  Acbar !"  says  Ockley,  means 
"(Jod  is  most  mighty." 

t  The  ziraleet  is  a  kind  of  chorus,  which  tlie  women  of  the  East  sing  upon 
joyful  occasions. — Riissel. 

c  The  Dead  Sea,  wliich  contains  neither  animal  nor  vegetable  life. 


VEILED  PROPHET  OF  KHORASSAN.  m 

Ijpon  whose  surface  morn  and  summer  shed 
Then'  smiles  in  vain,  for  all  beneath  is  dead ! — 
Hearts  there  have  been,  o'er  which  this  weight  of  woe 
Came  by  long  use  of  sufiering,  tame  and  slow ; 
But  thine,  lost  youth !  was  sudden — over  thee 
It  broke  at  once,  when  all  seemed  ecstasy  ; 
When  Hope  looked  up,  and  saw  the  gloomy  Past 
Melt  into  splendour,  and  Bliss  dawn  at  last — 
'Twas  then,  ev'n  then,  o'er  joys  so  freslily  blo\\n, 
This  mortal  blight  of  misery  came  down ; 
Ev'n  then,  the  full,  warm  gushings  of  thy  heart 
Were  checked — like  fount-drops,  frozen  as  they  start — 
And  there,  like  them,  cold,  sunless  relics  hang, 
Each  fixed  and  chilled  into  a  lasting  pang. 


One  sole  desire,  one  passion  now  remains 
To  keep  life's  fever  still  within  his  veins, — 
Vengeance  ! — dire  vengeance  on  the  wretch  who  cast 
O'er  him  and  all  he  loved  that  ruinous  blast. 
For  this,  when  rumours  reached  him  in  his  flight 
Far,  far  av;ay,  after  that  fatal  night, — 
Rumours  of  armies,  thronging  to  th'  attack 
Of  the  Veiled  Chief, — for  this  he  winged  him  back, 
Fleet  as  the  vulture  speeds  to  flags  unfurled, 
And,  when  all  hope  seemed  desperate,  wildly  hurled 
Himself  into  the  scale,  and  saved  a  world. 


118  LALLAROOKH. 

For  this  he  still  lives  on,  careless  of  all 
The  wreaths  that  Glory  on  his  path  lets  fall : 
For  this  alone  exists — like  lightninfr-fire. 
To  speed  one  bolt  of  vengeance,  and  expire  ! 


But  safe  as  yet  that  Spirit  of  Evil  lives ; 
With  a  small  band  of  desperate  fugitives. 
The  last  sole  stubborn  fragment,  left  unriven, 
Of  the  proud  host  that  late  stood  fronting  Heaven, 
He  gained  Merou — breathed  a  short  curse  of  blood 
O'er  his  lost  throne — then  passed  the  Jihon's  flood/ 
And  gathering  all,  whose  madness  of  belief 
Still  saw  a  Saviour  in  their  dow^nfallen  Chief, 
Raised  the  white  banner  within  Neksheb's  gates,'' 
And  there,  untamed,  th'  approaching  conqueror  w'aits. 

Of  all  his  Haram,  all  that  busy  hive, 
With  music  and  with  sweets  sparkling  alive, 
He  took  but  one,  the  partner  of  his  flight. 
One — not  for  love — not  for  her  beauty's  light — 
No,  Zelica  stood  withering  midst  the  gay, 
Wan  as  the  blossom  that  fell  yesterday 
From  th'  Alma  tree  and  dies,  while  overhead 
To-day's  young  flower  is  springing  in  its  stead.* 

«  The  ancient  Oxus.  t^  A  city  of  Transoxrana. 

c  "  Yon  can  never  cast  your  eyes  on  this  tree,  but  you  meet  there  either 
I  lossoms  or  fruit ;  and  as  the  blossom  «i.-ops  imderneath  on  the  ground,  (which 


T  E  I  L  E  D    PROPHET    OF    K  H  0  R  A  S  S  A  N.      1  Hi 

O.  not  for  love — the  deepest  Damned  must  be 

Touched  with  Heaven's  glory,  ere  such  fiends  as  he 

Can  feel  one  glimpse  of  Love's  divinity. 

But  no,  she  is  his  victim ; — there  lie  all 

Her  charms  for  him — charms  that  can  never  pall, 

As  long  as  hell  within  his  heart  can  stir, 

Or  one  faint  trace  of  Heaven  is  left  in  her. 

To  work  an  angel's  ruin, — to  behold 

As  white  a  page  as  Virtue  e'er  unrolled 

Blacken,  beneath  his  touch,  into  a  scroll 

Of  damning  sins,  sealed  wdth  a  burning  soul- 

This  is  his  triumph  ;  this  the  joy  accursed. 

That  ranks  him  among  demons  all  but  first : 

This  gives  the  victim,  that  before  him  lies 

Blighted  and  lost,  a  glory  in  his  eyes, 

A  light  like  that  with  w-hich  hell- fire  illumes 

The  ghastly,  writhing  wretch  whom  it  consumes '. 


But  other  tasks  now  wait  him — tasks  that  need 
All  the  deep  daringness  of  thought  and  deed 
With  which  the  Dives''  have  gifted  him — for  mark. 
Over  yon  plains,  which  night  had  else  made  dark, 


is  frequently  covered  with  these  purple-coloured  flowers,)  others  come  forth  in 
their  stead,"  «Sc;c.  &c. — Nwidioff. 

^  The  Demons  of  the  Persian  mythology. 


120  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  O  K  H. 


Thtthfi  janierns,  couutJ'^'s?  as  the  winf^ed  li;^h<«? 

That  spangle  India's  fields  on  showery  nif^hts,'^ — 

Far  as  their  formidable  gleams  they  shed, 

The  mighty  tents  of  the  beleaguerer  spread, 

Glimmermg  along  th'  horizon's  dusky  line, 

And  thence  in  neai-er  circles,  till  they  shine 

Among  the  founts  and  groves,  o'er  which  the  town 

In  all  its  armed  magnificence  looks  down. 

Yet,  fearless,  from  his  lofty  battlements 

MoKANNA  views  that  muhitude  of  tents ; 

Nay,  smiles  to  think  that,  though  entoiled,  beset. 

Not  less  than  myriads  dare  to  front  him  yet ; — 

That  friendless,  throneless,  he  thus  stands  at  bay, 

Ev'n  thus  a  match  for  myriads  such  as  they. 

"  0  for  a  sweep  of  that  dark  Angel's  w'ing, 

"Who  brushed  the  thousands  of  the  Assyrian  King" 

"  To  dprkness  in  a  moment,  that  I  might 

<' People  hell's  chambers  with  yon  host  to-night! 

"  But,  come  what  may,  let  who  will  grasp  the  throne, 

<'  Caliph  or  Prophet,  JNIan  alike  shall  groan ; 

"Let  who  will  torture  him.  Priest — Caliph — King — 

*' Alike  this  loathsome  world  of  his  shall  ring 

"  With  victims'  shrieks  and  bowlings  of  the  slave, — 

"Sounds  that  shall  glad  me  ev'n  w^ithin  my  gTave!" 


«  Carreri  mentions  the  fire-flies  in  India  during  the  rainy  season.     See  lus 
Travels. 

^  Sennacherib,  called  by  the  Orientals  King  of  Moussal. — D'Herbcht. 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    K  H  0  R  A  S  S  A  N.     121 


Thus  to  himself — but  to  the  scanty  train 

Still  left  around  him,  a  far  different  strain : — 

"  Glorious  Defenders  of  the  sacred  Crown 

"I  bear  from  Heaven,  whose  light  nor  blood  shall  drown 

<'  Nor  shadow  of  earth  eclipse ; — before  w^hose  gems 

"  The  paly  pomp  of  this  world's  diadems, 

"  The  crow^n  of  Gerashid,  the  pillared  throne 

"  Of  Parviz,''  and  the  heron  crest  that  shone,'' 

"Magnificent,  o'er  Ali's  beauteous  eyes,*^ 

"  Fade  like  the  stars  when  morn  is  in  the  skies : 

"Warriors,  rejoice — the  port  to  which  we've  passed 

"  O'er  Destiny's  dark  wave,  beams  out  at  last! 

"  Victory's  our  own — 'tis  written  in  that  Book 

"Upon  whose  leaves  none  but  the  angels  look, 

"  That  Islam's  sceptre  shall  beneath  the  power 

"  Of  her  great  foe  fall  broken  in  that  hour, 

"When  the  moon's  mighty  orb,  before  all  eyes, 

"From  Neksheb's  Holy  Well  portentously  shall  rise! 

a^  Chosroes.  For  the  description  of  his  Throne  or  Palace,  see  Gibbon  and 
D'HcrbcIot. 

There  was  said  to  be  under  this  Throne  or  Palace  of  Khosrou  Parviz  a 
hundred  vaults  filled  with  "  treasures  so  immense  that  some  Mahometan  writers 
tell  us,  their  Prophet,  to  encourage  his  discijiles,  carried  them  to  a  rock,  which 
at  his  command  opened,  and  gave  them  a  prospect  through  it  of  the  treasures  of  ■ 
Khosrou.'" —  Universal  Historij. 

^  "The  crown  of  Gerashid  is  cloudy  and  tarnished  before  the  heron  tuft  of 
thy  turban." — From  one  of  the  elegies  or  songs  in  praise  of  Ali,  written  in 
characters  of  gold  round  the  gallery  of  Abbas's  tomb. — See  Chardin. 

<=  The  beauty  o.'  Ali's  eyes  was  so  remarkable,  that  whenever  the  Persians 
would  describe  any  thing  as  very  lovely,  they  say  it  is  Ayn  Hali,  or  the  Eyes  of 
Ali. — Chardin. 

L 


122  L  A  L  L  A    K  0  0  K  H. 


"Now  turn  and  see!"- 


They  turned,  and  as  he  s^oke, 
A  sudden  splendour  all  around  tbem  broke, 
And  they  beheld  an  orb,  ample  ?^d  bright, 
Rise  from  the  Holy  Well, a  and  cast  its  light 
Round  the  rich  city  and  the  plain  for  miles,"' — 
Flinging  such  radiance  o'er  the  gilded  tiles 
Of  many  a  dome  and  fair-roofed  imaret 
As  autumn  suns  shed  round  them  when  they  set. 
Instant  from  all  who  saw  th'  illusive  sign 
A  murmur  broke — "  Miraculous  !  divine !" 
The  Gheber  bowed,  thinkiuQ-  his  idol  star 
Had  v.'aked,  and  burst  impatient  through  the  bar 
Of  midnight,  to  inflame  him  to  the  war ; 
While  he  of  Moussa's  creed  saw,  in  that  ray, 
The  glorious  Light  which,  in  his  freedom's  day, 
Had  rested  on  the  Ark,=  and  now  again 
Shone  out  to  bless  the  breaking  of  his  chain. 


a  We  are  not  told  more  of  this  trick  of  the  Impostor,  than  that  it  was  "une 
machine,  qu'il  disoit  etre  la  Lune."  According  to  Richardson,  the  miracle  is 
perpetuated  in  Nekscheb. — "Nakshab,  the  name  of  a  city  in  Transoxiana, 
where  tliey  say  there  is  a  well,  in  which  the  appearance  of  the  moon  is  to  be 
seen  night  and  day." 

^  "II  amusa  pendant  deux  mois  le  peuple  de  la  ville  de  Nekhscheb,  en 
faisant  sortir  toutes  les  nuits  du  fond  d'un  puits  un  corps  lumineux  semblable 
il  Lune,  qui  portoit  sa  lumiere  jusqu'a  la  distance  de  plusieurs  milles," — ■ 
n'Hcrbdot.     Hence  he  Mas  called  Sazendehmah,  or  the  Moon-maker. 

c  The  -Shechinah,  a  led  Sakinat  in  the  Koran. — See  Salens  Note,  chap.  ii. 


VEILED    PKOPHET    OF    K  II  0  R  A  S  S  A  N.    \2^ 

"To  victory!"  is  at  once  the  cry  of  all — 
Nor  stands  Mokanna  loitering  at  that  call — 
But  instant  the  huge  gates  are  flung  aside, 
And  forth,  like  a  diminutive  mountain-tide 
Into  the  boundless  sea,  they  speed  their  course 
Right  on  into  the  Moslem's  mighty  force. 
The  watchmen  of  the  camp, — who,  in  their  rounds, 
Had  paused,  and  ev'n  forgot  the  punctual  sounds 
Of  the  small  drum  with  which  they  count  the  night,* 
To  gaze  upon  that  supernatural  light, — 
Now  sink  beneath  an  unexpected  arm. 
And  in  a  death-groan  give  their  last  alarm. 
"  On  for  the  lamps,  that  light  yon  lofty  screen,'' 
"  Nor  blunt  your  blades  with  massacre  so  mean ; 
"  There  rests  the  Caliph — speed — one  lucky  lance 
"May  now  achieve  mankind's  deliverance." 
Desperate  the  die — such  as  they  only  cast. 
Who  venture  for  a  world,  and  stake  their  last. 
But  Fate's  no  longer  with  him — blade  for  blade 
Springs  up  to  meet  them  through  the  glimmering  shade, 


^  The  parts  of  tlie  night  are  made  known  as  well  by  instruments  of  music, 
as  by  the  rounds  of  the  watchmen  with  cries  and  small  drums. — See  Burder't 
Oriental  Customs,  vol.  i.  p.  119. 

^  The  Serrapurda,  high  screens  of  red  cloth,  stiffened  with  cane,  used  to 
enclose  a  considerable  space  round  the  roval  tents. — Notes  on  the  F.aliardumish. 

The  tents  of  Princes  were  generally  illuminated.  Norden  tells  us  that  the 
tent  .of  the  Bey  of  Girge  was  distinguished  fi"om  the  other  tents  by  forty  lanternB 
being  suspended  before  it. — See  Uarmer's  Observations  on  Job. 


124  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 


And,  as  the  clash  is  heard,  new  legions  soon 
Pour  to  the  spot,  like  bees  of  Kauzeroon  " 
To  the  shrill  timbrel's  summons, — till,  at  length, 
The  mighty  camp  swarms  out  in  all  its  strength, 
And  back  to  Nekshee's  gates,  covering  the  plain 
With  random  slaughter,  drives  th'  adventurous  train ; 
Among  the  last  of  whom  the  Silver  Veil 
Is  seen  glittering  at  times,  like  the  white  sail 
Of  some  tossed  vessel,  on  a  stormy  night. 
Catching  the  tempest's  momentary  light ! 

And  hath  not  this  brought  the  proud  spirit  low  ? 
Nor  dashed  his  brow,  nor  checked  his  daring?     No. 
Though  half  the  wretches,  whom  at  night  he  led 
To  thrones  and  victory,  lie  disgraced  and  dead, 
Yet  morning  hears  him,  with  unshrinking  crest, 
Still  vaunt  of  thrones  and  victory  to  the  rest ; — 
And  they  believe  him ! — 0,  the  lover  may 
Distrust  that  look  which  steals  his  soul  away ; — 
The  babe  may  cease  to  think  that  it  can  play 
With  heaven's  rainbow; — alchy mists  may  doubt 
The  shining  gold  their  crucible  gives  out ; 
But  Faith,  fanatic  Faith,  once  wedded  fast 
To  some  dear  falsehood,  huo;s  it  to  the  last. 


»■  "From  the  groves  of  orange-trees  at  Kauzeroon  the  bees  cull  a  celebrated 
fioney." — Marier's  Travels. 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KIIORASSAJ^f.     125 

And  well  th'  Impostor  knew  all  lures  and  arts, 
That  LuciFKR  e'er  taught  to  tangle  hearts  ; 
Nor,  mid  these  last  bold  workings  of  his  plo* 
Against  men's  souls,  is  Zelica  Ibrgot. 
Ill-fated  Zelica  !  had  reason  been 
AwaJce,  through  half  the  horrors  thou  hast  seen, 
Thou  never  couldst  have  borne  it — Death  had  come 
At  once,  and  taken  thy  wrung  spirit  home. 
But  'twas  not  so — a  torpor,  a  suspense 
Of  thought,  almost  of  life,  came  o'er  the  intense 
And  passionate  struggles  of  that  fearful  night. 
When  her  last  hope  of  peace  and  heaven  took  flight  j 
And  though,  at  times,  a  gleam  of  frenzy  broke, 
As  through  some  dull  volcano's  veil  of  smoke 
Ominous  flashings  now  and  then  will  startj 
Which  show  the  fire's  still  busy  at  its  heart , 
Yet  was  she  mostly  wTapped  in  solemn  gloom, 
Not  such  as  Azim's,  brooding  o'er  its  doom, 
And  calm  without,  as  is  the  brow  of  death, 
While  ,busy  worms  are  gnawing  underneath — 
But  in  a  blank  and  pulseless  torpor,  free 
From  thought  or  pain,  a  sealed-up  apathy, 
Which  left  her  oft,  with  scarce  one  living  thrill, 
The  cold,  pale  victim  of  her  torturer's  will. 

Again,  as  in  Merou,  he  had  her  decked 
Gorgeously  out,  the  Priestess  of  tlie  sectj 

l2 


126  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 


And  led  her  glittering  forth  before  the  eyes 

Of  his  rude  train,  as  to  a  sacrificej — 

Pallid  as  she,  the  young,  devoted  Bride 

Of  the  fierce  Nile,  when,  decked  in  all  the  pride 

Of  nuptial  pomp,  she  sinks  into  his  tide." 

And  while  the  wretched  maid  hung  down  her  head, 

And  stood,  as  one  just  risen  from  the  dead, 

Amid  that  gazing  crowd,  the  fiend  w'ould  tell 

His  credulous  slaves  it  was  some  charm  or  spell 

Possessed  her  now, — and  from  that  darkened  trance 

Should  dawn  ere  long  their  Faith's  deliverance. 

Or  if,  at  times,  goaded  by  guilty  shame, 

Her  soul  was  roused,  and  words  of  wildness  came, 

Instant  the  bold  blasphemer  would  translate 

Her  ravings  into  oracles  of  fate, 

Would  hail  Heaven's  signals  in  her  flashing  eyes, 

And  call  her  shrieks  the  language  of  the  skies ! 


But  vain  at  length  his  arts — despair  is  seen 
Gathering  around  ;  and  famine  comes  to  glean 
All  that  the  sword  hath  left  unreaped : — in  vain 
At  morn  aid  eve,  across  the  northern  plain 


a  "  A  custom,  still  subsisting  at  this  day,  seems  to  me  to  provcj  that  the 
Egyptians  formerly  sacrificed  a  young  virgin  to  the  God  of  the  Nile ;  for  they 
now  make  a  statue  of  earth  in  shape  of  a  girl,  to  which  t\  ey  give  the  name  of 
the  Betrothed  Bride,  and  throw  it  into  the  river." — Savan 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    K  H  O  R  A  S  S  A  N.   127 

He  looks  impatient  for  the  promised  spears 

Of  the  wild  Hordes  and  Tartar  mountaineers , 

They  come  not — while  his  fierce  beleagnerers  pour 

Engines  of  havoc  in,  unknown  before," 

And  horrible  as  new;'' — javelins,  that  fly 

Inwreathed  vnth  smoky  flames  through  the  dark  sky, 

'1  That  they  knew  the  secret  of  the  Greek  fire  ainongf  the  Mussuhnans  early 
in  the  eleventh  century,  appears  from  Dow's  Account  of  Mamood  I.  "When 
he  arrived  at  Moultan,  finding  that  the  country  of  the  Jits  was  defended  by 
great  rivers,  lie  ordered  fifteen  hundred,  boats  to  be  built,  each  of  which  he 
armed  with  six  iron  spikes,  projecting  from  their  prows  and  sides,  to  prevent 
their  being  boarded  by  the  enemy,  who  were  very  expert  in  that  kind  of  war 
When  he  had  launched  this  fleet,  he  ordered  twenty  archers  into  each  boat,  and 
five  others  with  fire-balls,  to  burn  the  craft  of  the  Jits,  and  naphtha  to  set  the 
whole  river  on  fire." 

The  agnec  as'cr,  too,  in  Indian  poems,  the  instrument  of  Fire,  whose  flame 
cannot  be  extinguished,  is  supposed  to  signify  the  Greek  Fire. — See  IFilks's 
South  of  India,  vol.  i.  p.  471. — And  in  the  curious  Javan  poem,  the  Erata 
Yiidha,  given  by  Sir  Stamford  Ilnffies  in  his  History  of  Java,  we  find,  "  He 
aimed  at  the  heart  of  Soeta  with  the  sharp-pointed  Weapon  of  Fire." 

The  mention  of  gunpowder  as  in  use  among  the  Arabians,  long  before  its 
supposed  discovery  in  Europe,  is  introduced  by  Ebn  Fadhl,  the  Egyptian  geo- 
grapher, who  lived  in  the  thirteenth  ccntur)'.  "Bodies,"  he  says,  "hi  the  form 
of  scorpions,  bound  round  and  filled  with  nitrous  powder,  glide  along,  making  a 
gentle  noise ;  then,  exploding,  they  hghten,  as  it  were,  and  burn.  But  there 
are  others  which,  cast  into  the  air,  stretch  along  like  a  cloud,  roaring  horribly, 
as  thunder  roars,  and  on  all  sides  vomiting  out  flames,  burst,  burn,  and  reduce 
to  cinders  whatever  conies  in  their  way."  The  historian  Ben  Jlbdalla,  in  speak- 
ing of  the  sieges  of  Abuhialid  in  the  3'ear  of  the  Hegira  712,  says,  «A  fieiy 
globe,  by  means  of  combustible  matter,  with  a  mighty  noise  suddenly  emitted,, 
strikes  with  the  force  of  lightning,  and  shakes  the  citadel." — Sec  the  extracts 
from  Casiri's  Biblioth.  Arab.  Hispan.  in  tlie  Appendix  to  Bcrington's  Literary 
History  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

''  The  Greek  fire,  which  was  occasionally  lent  by  the  emperors  to  their  allies. 
"  It  was,"  says  Gibbon,  «  either  launched  in  red-hot  balls  of  stone  and  iron,  or 
darted  in  arrows  and  javelins,  twisted  round  with  flax  and  tow,  which  had  deeply 
imbibed  the  inflammable  oil." 


128  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  O  K  H. 

And  red-hot  globes,  that,  opening  as  they  mount, 
Discharge,  as  from  a  kindled  Naphtha  fount,'' 
Showers  of  consuming  fire  o'er  all  below ; 
Looking,  as  through  th'  illumined  night  they  go. 
Like  those  wild  birds''  that  by  the  Magians  oft. 
At  festivals  of  lii'e,  were  sent  aloft 
Into  the  air,  with  blazing  fagots  tied 
To  their  huge  wings,  scattering  combustion  wide. 
All  night  the  groans  of  wretches  who  expire. 
In  agony,  beneath  these  darts  of  fire, 
Ring  through  the  city — while,  descending  o'er 
Its  shrines  and  domes  and  streets  of  sycamore, — 
Its  lone  bazaars,  with  their  bright  cloths  of  gold. 
Since  the  last  peaceful  pageant  left  unrolled, — 


a  See  Hanwny^s  Account  of  the  Springs  of  Naphtha  at  Baku,  (which  is 
called  by  Lieulenant  PoUinger  Joala  Mookcc,  or  the  Flaming  Mouth,)  taking 
fire  and  running  into  the  sea.  Dr.  Cooke,  in  his  Journal,  mentions  some  wells 
in  Circassia,  strongly  impregnated  with  this  inflammable  oil,  from  which  issues 
boiling  water.  "  Though  the  weather,"  he  adds,  "  was  now  very  cold,  tbe 
warmth  of  these  wells  of  hot  water  produced  near  them  the  ■verdure  and  flowers 
of  spring." 

Major  Scott  Waring  says,  that  naphtha  is  used  by  the  Persians,  as  we  are 
told,  it  was  in  hell,  for  lamps ; 

many  a  row 

Of  starry  lamps  and  blazing  cressets,  fed 
With  naphtha  and  asphaltus,  yielding  light 
As  from  a  sky. 

^  "  At  the  great  festival  of  fire,  called  the  Sheb  Seze,  they  used  to  set  fire  to 
large  bunches  of  dry  combustibles,  fastened  round  wild  beasts  and  birds,  which 
being  then  let  loose,  the  air  and  earth  appeared  one  great  illumination ;  and,  as 
these  terrified  creatures  naturally  fled  to  the  woods  for  shelter,  it  is  easy  to  con- 
ceive die  conflagrations  they  produced." — Fdchardson' s  Dissertation. 


VEILED    P  R  0  r  II  E  T    OF    K  H  0  R  A  S  S  A  N.    129 


Its  beauteous  marble  baths,  whose  idle  jets 
Now  gusli  with  blood, — and  its  tall  minarets. 
That  late  have  stood  up  in  the  evening  glare 
Of  the  red  sun,  unhallowed  by  a  prayer ; — 
O'er  each,  in  turn,  the  dreadful  flame-bolts  fall, 
And  death  and  conflagraiion  throughout  all 
The  desolate  city  hold  high  festival! 


IMoKANNA  sees  the  world  is  his  no  more  ; — 
One  sting  at  parting,  and  his  grasp  is  o'er. 
"What!  drooping  now?" — thus,  with  unblushmg  cheek. 
He  hails  the  few,  who  yet  can  hear  him  speak. 
Of  all  those  famished  slaves  around  him  lying. 
And  by  the  light  of  blazing  temples  dying ; — 
"  Vvlrat ! — drooping  now  ? — now,  when  at  length  we  press 
"Home  o'er  the  very  threshold  of  success  ; 
"When  Alla  from  our  ranks  hath  thini.ed  away 
"  Those  grosser  branches,  that  kept  out  his  ray 
"  Of  favour  from  us,  and  we  stand  at  lengtlv 
"  Heirs  of  his  light  and  children  of  his  strength, 
"The  chosen  few,  who  shall  survive  the  fall 
"  Of  Kings  and  Thrones,  triumphant  over  all ! 
"  Have  you  then  lost,  weak  murmurers  as  you  are, 
"All  faith  in  him,  who  was  your  Light,  your  Star? 
"  Have  you  forgot  the  eye  of  glory,  hid 
"  Beneatli  this  Veil,  tire  flashing  of  whose  lid 


130  LALLA    ROOKH. 

"  Could,  like  a  sun-stroke  of  the  desert,  wither 

"  Millions  of  such  as  yonder  Chief  brings  hither  ? 

"  Long  have  its  lightnings  slept — too  long — but  now 

'"■  All  earth  shall  feel  th'  unveiling  of  this  brow ! 

"  To-night — yes,  sainted  men  !  this  very  night, 

"I  bid  you  all  to  a  fair  festal  rite, 

"Where — having  deep  refreshed  each  weary  limb 

"  With  viands,  such  as  feast  Heaven's  cherubim, 

"And  kindled  up  your  souls,  now  sunk  and  dim, 

"  With  that  pure  wine  the  Dark-eyed  Maids  above 

"  Keep,  sealed  v/ith  precious  musk,  for  those  they  love,^- 

"I  will  myself  uncurtain  in  your  sight 

'•The  wonders  of  this  brow's  ineffable  light ; 

"Then  lead  you  forth,  and  with  a  wink  disperse 

"Yon  myriads,  howling  through  the  universe!" 

Eager  they  listen — while  each  accent  darts 
New  life  into  their  chilled  and  hope-sick  hearts; 
Such  treacherous  life  as  the  cool  draught  su  iplies 
To  him  upon  the  stake,  who  drinks  and  dies! 
Wildly  they  point  their  lances  to  the  light 
Of  the  fast  sinking  sun,  and  shout  "To-night'" — 
"  To-night,"  their  Chief  re-echoes  in  a  voice 
Of  fiend-like  mockery  that  bids  hell  rejoice. 


a  "  The  righteous  shall  be  given  lo  drink  of  pure  wine,  sealed ;  the  seal 
Thereof  shall  be  musk." — Koran,  chap.  Ixxxiii. 


VEILED  PROPHET  OF  KHORASSAN.   HI 


Deluded  victims ! — never  hath  this  earth 

Seen  mourning  half  so  mournful  as  their  mirth. 

Here,  to  the  few,  whose  iron  frames  had  stood 

This  racking  waste  of  famine  and  of  blood, 

Faintj  dying  wretches  clung,  from  whom  the  shout 

Of  triumph  like  a  maniac's  laugh  broke  out : — 

There,  others,  lighted  by  the  smouldering  fire. 

Danced,  like  wan  ghosts  about  a  funeral  pyre, 

Among  the  dead  and  dying,  strewed  around ; — 

While  some  pale  wretch  looked  on,  and  from  his  wound 

Plucking  the  fiery  dart  by  which  he  bled, 

In  ghastly  transport  waved  it  o'er  his  head ! 


1    'Twas  more  than  midnight  now — a  fearful  pause 
Had  follovv'ed  the  long  shouts,  the  wild  applause, 
That  lately  from  those  Royal  Gardens  burst. 
Where  the  Veiled  demon  held  his  feast  accursed, 
When  Zelica — alas !  poor  ruined  heart. 
In  every  horror  doomed  to  bear  its  part ! — 
Was  bidden  to  the  banquet  by  a  slave, 
Who,  while  his  quivering  lip  the  summons  gave, 
Grev/  black,  as  though  the  shadows  of  the  grave 
Compassed  him  round,  and,  ere  he  could  repeat 
His  messasfe  through,' fell  lifeless  at  her  feet ! 
Shuddering  she  went — a  soulfelt  pang  of  fear, 
A  presage  that  her  o\vn  dark  doom  was  near, 


132  L  A  L  L  A    E  O  O  K  H. 

Roused  every  feeling,  and  brought  Reason  back 

Once  more,  to  writhe  her  last  upon  the  rack. 

All  round  seemed  tranquil — ev'n  the  foe  had  ceased, 

As  if  aware  of  that  demoniac  feast, 

His  fiery  bolts ;  and  though  the  heavens  looked  red, 

'Twas  but  some  distant  conflagration's  spread. 

But  hark — she  stops — she  listens — dreadful  tone  ! 

'Tis  her  tormentor's  laugh — and  now,  a  groan, 

A  long  death-groan  comes  with  it ; — can  this  be 

The  place  of  mirth,  the  bower  of  revelry  ? 

She  enters — Holy  Alla,  what  a  sight 

Was  there  before  her !     By  the  glimmering  light 

Of  the  pale  dawn,  mixed  with  the  flare  of  brands 

That  round  lay  burning,  dropped  from  lifeless  hands, 

She  saw  the  board,  in  splendid  mockery  spread, 

Rich  censers  breathing — garlands  overhead — 

The  urns,  the  cups,  from  which  they  late  had  quaffed, 

All  gold  and  gems,  but — what  had  been  the  draught  ? 

0 !  who  need  ask,  that  saw  those  livid  guests. 

With  their  swollen  heads  sunk  blackening  on  their  breasts^ 

Or  looking  pale  to  Heaven  with  glassy  glare, 

As  if  they  sought  but  saw  no  mercy  there  ; 

As  if  they  felt,  though  poison  racked  them  through, 

Remorse  the  deadlier  torment  of  the  two  ! 

While  some,  the  bravest,  hardiest  in  the  train 

Of  their  false  Chief,  who  on  the  battle-plain 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KHORASSAN.      133 

Would  have  met  death  with  transport  by  his  side, 
Here  mute  and  helpless  gasped  ; — but,  as  they  died, 
Looked  horrible  vengeance  with  their  eyes'  last  strain, 
Ana  clinched  the  slackening  hand  at  hiui  in  vain. 

Dreadful  it  was  to  see  the  ghastly  stare. 
The  stony  look  of  horror  and  despair. 
Which  some  of  these  expiring  victims  cast 
Upon  their  soul's  tormentor  to  the  last ; — 
Upon  that  mocking  Fiend,  whose  Veil,  now  raised. 
Showed  them,  as  in  death's  agony  they  gazed. 
Not  the  long  promised  light,  the  brow,  whose  beaming 
Was  to  come  forth,  all  conquering,  all  redeeming, 
But  features  horribler  than  Hell  e'er  traced 
On  its  own  brood  ; — no  Demon  of  the  Waste," 
No  churchyard  Ghole,  caught  lingering  in  the  light 
Of  the  bless'd  sun,  e'er  blasted  human  sight 
With  lineaments  so  foul,  so  fierce  as  those 
Th'  Impostor  now,  in  grinning  mockery,  shows : — 
"  There,  ye  wise  Saints,  behold  your  Light,  your  Star— 
"Ye  would  be  dupes  and  victims,  and  ye  arc. 
"Is  it  enough?  or  must  I,  while  a  thrill 
"  Lives  in  your  sapient  bosoms,  cheat  you  still? 

^  "The  Af^hauns  believe  each  of  the  numerous  solitudes  and  deserts  of  Ihcir 
country  to  be  inhabited  by  a  lonely  demon,  whom  they  call  the  Ghoolce  Beeabau, 
or  Spirit  of  the  Waste.  They  often  illustrate  the  wildness  of  any  sequestered 
tribe,  by  saying,  tiiey  are  wild  as  the  Demon  of  the  Waste." — Elphinstone's 
CaubuL 

M 


134  L  A  L  L  A    H  0  0  K  H- 

<<  Swear  tliat  the  burning  death  ye  feel  within 
"Is  but  the  trance  wilJi  which  heaven's  joys  begm; 
"  That  this  foul  visage,  foul  as  e'er  disgraced 
"Ev'n  monstrous  man,  is — after  God's  own  taste  ; 
"  And  that — but  see ! — ere  I  have  halfway  said 
"  -^'^y  gi'eetings  through,  th'  uncourteous  souls  are  fled. 
"Farewell,  sweet  spirits!  not  in  vain  ye  die 
"'If  Eblis  loves  you  half  so  well  as  I. — 
"  Ha,  my  young  bride ! — 'tis  well — take  thou  thy  seat ; 
"  Nay,  come — no  shuddering — didst  thou  never  meet 
"  The  Dead  before  ? — they  graced  our  wedding,  sweet ; 
"And  these,  my  guests  to-night,  have  brimmed  so  true 
"  Their  parting  cups,  that  thou  shalt  pledge  one  too, 
"But — how  is  this? — all  empty? — all  drunk  up  ? 
"  Hot  lips  have  been  before  thee  in  the  cup, 
"Young  bride — yet  stay — one  precious  drop  remains, 
"Enough  to  warm  a  gentle  Priestess'  veins; — 
'  Here,  drink — and  should  thy  lover's  conquering  arms 
"  Speed  hither,  ere  thy  lip  lose  all  its  charms, 
"  Give  him  but  half  this  venom  in  thy  kiss, 
"  And  I'll  forgive  my  haughty  rival's  bliss ! 


"For  me — I  too  must  die — but  not  like  these 
"Vile,  rankling  things,  to  fester  in  the  breeze ; 
"  To  have  this  brow  in  ruffian  triumph  shown, 
"  With  all  death's  grimness  added  to  its  own. 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    K  H  0  R  A  S  S  A  N.      135 

"  And  rot  to  dust  beneath  the  taunting  eyes 

<■'  Of  slaves,  exclaimmg,  '  Tliere  his  Godship  hes!' 

"No — cursed  race — smce  first  my  soul  drew  breath, 

"  They've  been  my  dupes,  and  shall  be  ev'n  in  death. 

"  Thou  seest  yon  cistern  in  the  shade — 'tis  filled 

"  With  burnino;  drugs,  for  this  last  hour  distilled  :  "^ — 

"  There  will  I  plunge  me,  in  that  liquid  flame — 

"  Fit  bath  to  lave  a  dying  Prophet's  frame ! — 

"There  perish,  all — ere  pulse  of  thine  shall  fiiil — 

"Nor  leave  one  limb  to  tell  mankind  the  tale. 

"  So  shall  my  votaries,  Avheresoe'er  tliey  rave, 

"  Proclaim  that  Heaven  took  l^ack  the  Saint  it  gave ; — 

"That  I've  but  vanished  from  this  earth  awhile, 

"  To  come  again,  with  bright,  unshrouded  smile  ! 

"  So  shall  they  build  me  altars  in  their  zeal, 

"  Where  knaves  shall  minister,  and  fools  shall  kneel ; 

"Where  Faith  may  mutter  o'er  her  mystic  spell, 

"  Written  in  blood — and  Bigotry  may  swell 

"  The  sail  he  spreads  for  heaven  with  blasts  from  hell ' 

"  So  shall  my  banner,  through  long  ages,  be 

"  The  rallying  sign  of  fraud  and  anarchy ; — 

"Kings  yet  unborn  shall  rue  Mokanna's  name, 

"And,  though  I  die,  my  spirit,  still  the  same, 

a  "II  donna  du  poison  dans  le  vin  a,  tons  ses  gens,  et  se  jetta  lui-nieme 
ensuite  dans  une  cuve  pleine  de  drogues  brulantes  et  consuinantes,  afin  qu'il  no 
restat  rien  de  tous  ies  membres  de  son  corps,  ct  que  ceux  qui  rcstoient  dc  sa 
Becte  puissent  croire  qu'il  utoit  monte  du  ciel,  ce  qui  ne  manqua  pas  J'arrivcr  " — 
B'Hcrbelot 


I3G  LALLA    ROOKH. 


"  Shall  walk  abroad  in  all  the  stormy  strife, 
"And  guilt,  and  blood,  that  were  its  bliss  in  life. 
"  But,  hark  !  their  battering  engine  shakes  the  wall — 
"  Why,  ht  it  shake — thus  I  can  brave  them  all. 
"  No  trace  of  me  shall  greet  them,  when  they  come, 
"And  I  can  trust  thy  faith,  for — thou'lt  be  dumb. 
"  Now  mark  how  readily  a  wretch  like  me, 
"In  one  bold  plunge,  commences  Deity!" 

He  sprung  and  sunk,  as  the  last  words  were  said- 
Quick  closed  the  burning  waters  o'er  his  head, 
And  Zelica  was  left — within  the  ring 
Of  those  wide  walls  the  only  living  thing ; 
The  only  wretched  one,  still  cursed  with  breath, 
In  all  that  frightful  wilderness  of  death ! 
More  like  some  bloodless  ghost — such  as,  they  tell, 
In  the  Lone  Cities  of  the  Silent '^  dwell, 
And  there,  unseen  of  all  but  Alla,  sit 
Each  by  its  own  pale  carcass,  watching  it. 

But  morn  is  up,  and  a  fresh  warfare  stirs 
Throughout  the  camp  of  the  beleaguerers. 


»  "They  have  all  a  great  reverence  for  burial-grounds,  which  they  sometimes 
r,all  Hy  the  poetical  name  of  Cities  of  the  Silent,  and  which  they  people  with  the 
ghosts  of  the  departed,  who  sit  each  at  the  head  of  his  own  grave,  iiavisible  to 
mortal  eyes." — El}hinslone. 


VEILED    rROPIIET    OF    K  H  O  R  A  S  S  A  N.      V^T 

Their  globes  of  fire  (the  dread  artillery  lent 

By  Greece  to  conquering  Mahadi)  are  spent ; 

And  now  the  scorpion's  shaft,  the  quarry  sent 

From  high  balistas,  and  the  shielded  throng 

Of  soldiers  swinging  the  huge  ram  along, 

All  speak  th'  impatient  Islamite's  intent 

To  try,  at  length,  if  tower  and  battlement 

And  bastioned  wall  be  not  less  hard  to  win, 

Less  tough  to  break  down,  than  the  hearts  within. 

First  in  impatience  and  in  toil  is  he. 

The  burning  Azim — 0 !  could  he  but  see 

Th'  Impostor  once  alive  within  his  gi'asp, 

Not  the  gaunt  lion's  hug,  nor  boa's  clasp. 

Could  match  that  gripe  of  vengeance,  or  keep  pace 

With  the  fell  heartiness  of  Hate's  embrace. 

Loud  rings  the  ponderous  ram  against  the  walls ; 
Now  shake  the  ramparts,  now  a  buttress  falls, 
But  still  no  breach — "  Once  more,  one  mighty  swing 
"  Of  all  your  beams,  together  thundering!" 
There — the  wall  shakes — the  shouting  troops  exult, 
•'  Quick,  quick  discharge  your  weightiest  catapult 
"  Right  on  that  spot,  and  Neksheb  is  our  own !" 
'Tis  done — the  batlements  come  crashing  down, 
A.nd  the  huge  wall,  by  that  stroke  riven  in  two. 
Yawning,  like  some  old  crater,  rent  anew, 
Shows  tlie  dim,  desolate  city  smoking  through. 


138  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 


But  strange !  no  signs  of  life — naught  living  seen 
Above,  oelow — v.-hat  can  this  stillness  mean? 
A  minute's  pause  suspends  all  hearts  and  eyes — 
"In  through  the  breach,"  nnpetuous  Azim  cries  ; 
But  the  cool  Caliph,  fearful  of  some  wile 
In  this  blank  stillness,  checks  the  troops  awhile. — 
Just  then,  a  figure,  with  slow  step,  advanced 
Forth  from  the  ruined  walls,  and,  as  there  glanced 
A  sunbeam  over  it,  all  eyes  could  see 
The  well-known  Silver  Veil!—"  'Tis  He,  'tis  He, 
"MoKANNA,  and  alone!"  they  shout  around; 
Young  Azim  from  his  steed  springs  to  the  ground — 
"Mine,  Holy  Caliph!  mine,"  he  cries,  "the  task 
"  To  crush  yon  daring  wretch — ''tis  all  I  ask." 
Eager  he  darts  to  meet  the  demon  foe, 
Who  still  across  wide  heaps  of  ruin  slow 
And  falteringly  comes,  till  they  are  near  ; 
Then,  with  a  bound,  rushes  on  Azim's  spear, 
And,  casting  off  the  Veil  in  falling,  shows — 
0  ! — 'tis  his  Zelica's  life-blood  that  flows  I 

"I  meant  not,  Azim,"  soothingly  she  said, 
As  on  his  trembling  arm  she  leaned  her  head, 
And,  looking  in  his  face,  saw  anguish  there 
Beyond  all  wounds  the  quivering  flesh  can  bear — 
"  I  mea.  \  not  thou  shouldst  have  the  pain  of  this  : — 
"  Thoug,   death,  with  thee  thus  tasted,  is  a  bliss 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    K  II  0  R  A  S  S  A  N.      139 

Thou  wouldst  not  rob  me  of,  didst  thou  but  know 
How  oft  I've  prayed  to  God  I  might  die  so ! 
But  the  Fiend's  venom  was  too  scant  and  slow  ;— 
To  hnger  on  were  maddening — and  I  thought 
If  once  that  Veil — nay,  look  not  on  it — caught 
The  eyes  of  your  fierce  soldiery,  I  should  be 
Struck  by  a  thousand  death-darts  instantly. 
But  this  is  sweeter — 0  !  believe  me,  yes — 
I  would  not  change  this  sad,  but  dear  caress, 
This  death  within  thy  arms  I  would  not  give 
For  the  most  smiling  life  the  happiest  live ! 
All,  that  stood  dark  and  drear  before  the  eye 
Of  my  strayed  soul,  is  passing  swiftly  by ; 
A  light  comes  o'er  me  from  those  looks  of  love. 
Like  tlie  first  dawn  of  mercy  from  above ; 
And  if  thy  lips  but  tell  me  I'm  forgiven, 
Angels  will  echo  the  blest  words  in  heaven ! 
But  live,  my  Azim  ; — 0 !  to  call  thee  mine 
Thus  once  again !  iny  Azim — dream  divine ! 
Live,  if  thou  ever  lov'dst  me,  if  to  meet 
Thy  Zelica  heieafter  would  be  sweet, 
0,  live  to  pray  for  her — to  bend  the  knee 
Morning  and  night  before  that  Deity, 
To  whom  pure  lips  and  hearts  without  a  stain, 
As  thme  are,  Azim,  never  breathed  in  vain, — 
And  pray  that  He  may  pardon  her, — may  take 
Compassion  on  her  soul  for  thy  dear  sake. 


140  LALLA    ROOKH. 


"  Andj  naught  remembering-  but  her  love  to  thee, 

'<  Make  her  all  thine,  all  His,  eternally ! 

'<  Go  to  those  happy  fields  were  first  we  twined 

"  Our  youthful  hearts  together — every  winc^ 

"That    meets   thee   there,   fresh  from    fiie   well-known 

flowers, 
"Will  bring  the  sweetness  of  those  innocent  hours 
"  Back  to  thy  soul,  and  thou  mayst  feel  again 
"  For  thy  poor  Zelica  as  thou  didst  then. 
"  So  shall  thy  orisons,  like  dew  that  flies 
"  To  heaven  upon  the  morning's  sunshine,  rise 
"  With  all  love's  earliest  ardour  to  the  skies ! 
"  And  should  they — but  alas!  my  senses  fail —     • 
"  0  for  one  minute ! — should  thy  prayers  prevail — 
"If  pardoned  souls  may — from  that  World  of  Bliss, 
"  Reveal  their  joy  to  those  they  love  in  this — 
"  I'll  come  to  thee — in  some  sweet  dream-7-and  tell — 
"0  Heaven — I  die — dear  love!  farewell,  farewell." 

Time  fleeted — years  on  years  had  passed  away, 
A.nd  few  of  those  who,  on  that  mournful  day. 
Had  stood,  wdth  pity  in  their  eyes,  to  see 
The  maiden's  death,  and  the  youth's  agony, 
Were  living  still — when,  by  a  rustic  grave, 
Beside  the  swift  Amoo's  transparent  wave, 
An  aged  man,  who  had  grown  aged  there 
By  that  lone  grave,  morning  and  night  in  prayer, 


VEILED    PROPHET    OF    KHORASSAN.     14i 

For  the  last  time  knelt  down — and,  though  the  shade 

Of  death  hung  darkening  over  him,  there  played 

A  gleam  of  rapture  on  his  eye  and  cheek. 

That  brightened  even  Death — like  the  last  streak 

Of  intense  glory  on  the  horizon's  brim. 

When  night  o'er  all  the  rest  hangs  chill  and  dim 

His  soul  had  seen  a  Vision,  while  he  slept ; 

She,  for  whose  spirit  he  had  prayed  and  wept 

So  many  years,  had  come  to  him,  all  dressed 

In  angel  smiles,  and  told  him  she  was  blessed ! 

For  this  the  old  man  breathed  his  thanks,  and  died- — 

And  there,  upon  the  banks  of  that  loved  tide, 

He  and  his  Zelica  sleep  side  by  side. 


[42  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  U  K  H. 


The  story  of  tJie  Veiled  Prophet  of  Ivliorassan  being 
ended,  they  were  now  doomed  to  hear  Fadladeen's  criti- 
cisms upon  it.  A  series  of  disappointments  and  accidents  had 
occurred  to  this  learned  Chamberlain  during  the  journey.  In 
the  first  place,  those  couriers,  stationed,  as  in  the  reign  of 
Shah  Jehan,  between  Delhi  and  the  western  coast  of  India,  to 
secure  a  constant  supply  of  mangoes  for  the  Royal  Table,  had, 
by  some  cruel  irregularity,  failed  in  their  duty ;  and  to  eat  any 
man^ne?  but  those  of  Mazagong  was,  of  course,  impossible."- 
In  the  next  place,  the  elephant,  laden  with  his  fine  antique 
porcelain,^  had,  in  an  unusual  fit  of  liveliness,  shattered  the 
whole    set  to  pieces: — an  irreparable  loss,  as   many  of  the 


a  "  The  celebrity  of  Mazagong  is  owing  to  its  mangoes,  which  are  certainly 
the  best  friiit  I  ever  tasted.  The  parent-tree,  from  which  all  those  of  this 
species  have  been  grafted,  is  honom-ed  during  the  fruit-season  by  a  guard  of 
sepoys ;  and  in  the  reign  of  Shah  Jehan,  couriers  were  stationed  between  Delhi 
and  the  Mahralta  coast,  to  secure  an  abundant  and  fresh  supply  of  mangoes  for 
the  royal  table." — Mrs,  Grahani's  Journal  of  a  Residence  in  India. 

^  This  old  porcelain  is  found  in  digging,  and  "if  it  is  esteemed,  it  is  not 
because  it  has  acquired  any  new  degree  of  beauty  in  the  earth,  but  because  it 
tias  retained  its  ancient  beauty;  and  this  alone  is  of  great  importance  in  China, 
where  they  give  large  sums  for  the  smallest  vessels  which  were  used  under  the 
Emperors  Yan  and  Chun,  who  reigned  many  ages  before  the  dynasty  of  Tang 
at  which  time  porcelain  began  to  be  used  by  the  Emperors,"  (about  the  yeai 
442.) — Dimn's  Collection  of  curious  Observations,  &c. ; — a  bad  translation  ot 
some  parts  of  t'ne  Lettres  Edifiantes  et  Curieuses  of  the  Missionary  Jesuits. 


L  A  L  li  A    R  O  O  K  H  143 

vessels  were  so  exquisitely  old,  as  to  have  been  used  undei 
the  Emperors  Yan  and  Chun,  who  reigned  many  ages  before 
the  dynasty  of  Tang.  His  Koran,  too,  supposed  to  be  the 
identical  copy  between  the  leaves  of  which  Mahomet's 
favourite  pigeon  used  to  nestle,  had  been  mislaid  by  his 
Koran-bearer  three  whole  days  ;  not  without  much  spiritual 
alarm  to  Fadladeen,  who,  though  professing  to  hold,  with 
other  loyal  and  orthodox  Mussulmans,  that  salvation  could 
only  be  found  in  the  Koran,  was  strongly  suspected  of  believ- 
ing m  his  heart,  that  it  could  only  be  found  in  his  own  par- 
ticular copy  of  it.  When  to  all  these  grievances  is  added  the 
obstinacy  of  the  cooks,  in  putting  the  pepper  of  Canara  into 
his  dishes  instead  of  the  cinnamon  of  Serendib,  we  may  easily 
suppose  that  he  came  to  the  task  of  criticism  with,  at  least,  a 
sufficient  degree  of  irritability  for  the  purpose. 

"In  order,"  said  he,  importantly  sv\^nging  about  his 
chaplet  of  pearls,  "to  convey  with  clearness  my  opinion  of 
the  story  this  young  man  has  related,  it  is  necessary  to  take  a 

review  of  all  the  stories  that  have  ever "     — "My  good 

Fadladeen!"  exclaim^ed  the  Princess,  interrupting  him,  "we 
really  do  not  deserve  that  you  should  give  yourself  so  much 
trouble.  Your  opinion  of  the  poem  we  have  just  heard,  n-ill, 
I  have  no  doubt,  be  abundantly  edifying,  without  any  ^urther 
rrAe  of  your  valuable  erudition." — "If  that  be  all,"  replied 
the  critic, — evidently  mortified  at  not  being  allowed  to  bhow 
how  much  he  Imew  about  every  thing  but  the  subject  imme- 


144  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  O  K  H 


diately  before  him — "if  that  be  all  that  is  required,  the  matter 
is  easily  despatched."  He  then  proceeded  to  analyze  the 
poem,  in  that  strain,  (so  well  known  to  the  unfortunate  bards 
of  Delhi,)  whose  censures  were  an  infliction  from  which  few 
recovered,  and  whose  very  praises  were  like  the  honey  ex- 
tracted from  the  bitter  flowers  of  the  aloe.  The  chief  person- 
ages of  the  story  were,  if  he  rightly  understood  them,  an  ill- 
favoured  gentleman,  with  a  veil  over  his  face ; — a  young  lady, 
whose  reason  went  and  came,  according  as  it  suited  the  poet's 
convenience  to  be  sensible  or  otherwise ; — and  a  youth  in  one 
of  those  hideous  Bucharian  bonnets,  who  took  the  aforesaid 
gentleman  in  a  veil  for  a  Divinity.  "From  such  materials," 
said  he,  "what  can  be  expected? — after  rivallhig  each  other 
in  long  speeches  and  absurdities,  through  some  thousands  of 
lines  as  indigestible  as  the  fdberts  of  Berdaa,  our  friend  in  the 
veil  jumps  into  a  tub  of  aquafortis ;  the  young  lady  dies  in  p 
set  speech,  whose  only  recommendation  is  that  it  is  her  last ; 
and  the  lover  lives  on  to  a  good  old  age,  for  the  laudable 
purpose  of  seeing  her  ghost,  which  he  at  last  happily  accom- 
plishes, and  expires.  This,  you  will  allow,  is  a  fair  summary 
of  the  story;  and,  if  Nasser,  the  Arabian  merchant,  told  no 
better,  our  Holy  Prophet  (to  whom  fee  all  honour  and  glory!) 
had  no  need  to  be  jealous  of  his  abilities  for  story-telling."'' 

,a  "La  lecture  de  ces  Fables  plaiaoit  si  fort  aux  Arabes,  que,  quand  Mahomet 

les  entretenoit  de  THistoire  de  I'Ancien  Testament,  ils  les  meprisoient,  lui  dieant 

que  celles  que  Nasser  leur   racontoient  etoient  beaucoup  plus    belles.     Cette 

preference  attira  a  Nasser  la  malediction  de  Mahomet  et  de  tous  ses  disciples." 

-JDUIcrbelot. 


L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H.  145 

With  respect  to  the  style,  it  was  worthy  of  the  matter ; — it 
had  not  even  those  pohtic  contrivances  of  structure,  which 
make  up  for  tire  commonness  of  the  thoughts  by  the  pecu- 
liarity of  the  manner,  nor  that  stately  poetical  phraseology  by 
which  sentiments  mean  in  themselves,  IDce  the  blacksmith's " 
apron  converted  into  a  banner,  are  so  easily  gilt  and  embroi- 
dered into  consequence.  Then,  as  to  the  versification,  it  was, 
to  say  no  w^orse  of  it,  execrable ;  it  had  neither  the  copious 
flow  of  Ferdosi,  the  sweetness  of  Hafez,  nor  the  sententious 
march  of  Sadi;  but  appeared  to  him,  in  the  uneasy  heaviness 
of  its  movements,  to  have  been  modelled  upon  the  gait  of 
a  very  tired  dromedary.  The  licenses,  too,  in  which  it  in- 
dulged, were  unpardonable ; — for  instance  this  line,  and  the 
poem  abounded  with  such, —  ' 

Like  the  faint,  exquisite  music  of  a  dream. 

"What  critic  that  can  count,"  said  Fadladeen,  "and  has 
his  full  complement  of  fingers  to  count  withal,  would  tolerate 
for  an  instant  such  syllabic  superfluities?" — He  here  looked 
round,  and  discovered  that  most  of  his  audience  were  asl(?ep  ; 
while  the  glimmering  lamps  seemed  inclmed  to  follow  their 
example.  It  became  necessary,  therefore,  however  painful  to 
himself,  to  put  an  end  to  his  valuable  animadversions  for  the 
present,  and  he  accordingly  concluded,  with  an  air  of  dignified 


a  The  blacksmith  Gao,  who  successfully  resisted  the  tyrant  Zohak,  and 
whose  apron  became  the  Royal  Standard  of  Persia. 

N 


146  L  AL  L  A    RO  OKH. 

candour,  thus  : — "  Nohvithstanding  the  observations  which  I 
have  thought  it  my  duty  to  make,  it  is  by  no  means  my  wish 
to  discourage  the  young  man — so  far  from  it,  indeed,  that  if 
he  will  but  totally  alter  his  style  of  WTiting  and  thinking,  I 
have  very  little  doubt  that  I  shall  be  vastly  pleased  with  him." 

Some  days  elapsed,  after  this  harangue  of  the  Great 
Chamberlain,  before  Lalla  Rookh  could  venture  to  ask  for 
another  story.  The  youth  was  still  a  welcome  guest  in  the 
pavilion — to  one  heart,  perhaps,  too  dangerously  welcome ; — 
but  all  mention  of  poetry  was,  as  if  by  common  consent, 
avoided.  Though  none  of  the  party  had  much  respect  for 
Fadladeen,  yet  his  censures,  thus  magisterially  delivered, 
evidently  made  an  impression  on  them  all.  The  Poet  himself, 
to  whom  criticism  was  quite  a  new  operation,  (being  wholly 
unknow^n  in  that  Paradise  of  the  Indies,  Cashmere,)  felt  the 
shock  as  it  is  generally  felt  at  first,  till  use  has  made  it  more 
tolerable  to  the  patient; — the  Ladies  began  to  suspect  that 
they  ought  not  to  be  pleased,  and  seemed  to  conclude  that 
there  must  have  been  much  good  sense  in  what  Fadladeen 
said,  from  its  having  set  them  all  so  soundly  to  sleep  ;• — while 
the  self-complacent  Chamberlain  was  left  to  triumph  in  the 
idea  of  having,  for  the  hundred  and  fiftieth  time  in  his  life, 
extinguished  a  Poet.  Lalla  Rookh  alone — and  Love  knew 
w^hy — persisted  in  being  delighted  with  all  she  had  heard, 
and  in  resolving  to  hear  more  as  speedily  as  possible.  Her 
manner,   however,   of   first    returning    to    the    subject   was 


L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  II.  147 

unlucky.  It  was  while  they  rested,  during  the  heat  of  noon, 
near  a  fountain,  on  which  some  hand  had  rudely  traced  those 
weU-kno^\^l  words  from  the  Garden  of  Sadi, — "  ^I^ny,  like 
me,  have  viewed  this  fountain,  but  they  are  gone,  and  their 
eyes  are  closed  for  ever!" — that  she  took  occasion,  from  the 
melancholy  beauty  of  this  passage,  to  dwell  upon  the  charms 
of  poetry  in  general.  "It  is  true,"  she  said,  "few  poets  can 
imitate  that  sublime  bird,  which  flies  always  in  the  air,  and 
never  touches  the  earth : " — it  is  only  once  in  many  ages  a 
Genius  appears,  whose  words,  like  those  on  the  Written 
Mountain,  last  for  ever :  ^ — but  still  there  are  some,  as  delight- 
ful, perhaps,  though  not  so  wonderful,  v\'ho,  if  not  stars  over 


a  «  The  Huma,  a  bird  peculiar  to  the  East.  It  is  supposed  to  fly  constantly 
in  the  air,  and  never  touch  the  ground;  it  is  looked  upon  as  a  bird  of  happy 
omen;  and  that  every  head  it  overshades  will  in  time  wear  a  crown." — 
Richardson. 

In  the  terms  of  alliance  made  by  Fuzzel  Oola  Khan  with  Hyder  in  1760, 
one  of  the  stipulations  was,  "  that  he  should  have  the  distinction  of  two  honorary 
attendants  standing  behind  him,  holding  fans  composed  of  the  feathers  of  the 
humma,  according  to  the  practice  of  his  family." — Wilks's  South  of  India.  He 
adds  in  a  note, — "The  Humma  is  a  fabulous  bird.  The  head  over  which  its 
shadow  once  passes  will  assuredly  be  circled  with  a  crown.  The  splendid  little 
bird  suspended  over  the  throne  of  Tippoo  Sultaun,  found  at  Seringapatam  in 
1799,  was  intended  to  represent  this  poetical  fancy." 

^  "  To  the  pilgrims  to  Mount  Sinai  we  must  attribute  the  inscriptions,  figures, 
&c.,  on  those  rocks,  which  have  from  thence  acquired  the  name  of  the  Written 
Mountain." —  Volncy.  M.  Gcbelin  and  others  have  been  at  much  pains  to  attach 
some  mj'&terious  and  unportant  meaning  to  these  inscriptions ;  but  Niebuhr,  as 
well  as  Vohiey,  tliinks  that  they  must  have  been  executed  at  idle  hours  by  the 
travellers  to  Mount  Sinai,  "who  were  satisfied  with  cutting  the  unpolished 
rock  with  any  pointed  instrument;  adding  to  theur  names  and  the  date  of  their 
journeys  some  rude  figures,  wliich  bespeak  the  hand  of  a  people  but  !it:!e  skilled 
in  the  arts." — Niebuhr. 


148  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  O  K  n. 


our  head,  are  at  least  flowers  along  our  path,  and  whose 
sweetness  of  the  moment  we  ought  gratefully  to  inliale, 
without  calling  upon  them  for  a  brightness  and  a  durability 
beyond  their  nature.  In  short,"  coi^inued  she,  blushing,  as 
if  conscious  of  being  caught  in  an  oration,  "it  is  quite  cruel 
that  a  poet  cannot  wander  through  his  regions  of  enchantment, 
without  having  a  critic  for  ever,  like  the  old  Man  of  the  Sea, 
upon  his  back!'"* — Fadladeen,  it  was  plain,  took  this  last 
luckless  allusion  to  himself,  and  would  treasure  it  up  in  his 
mind  as  a  whetstone  for  his  next  criticism.  A  sudden. silence 
ensued ;  and  the  Princess,  glancing  a  look  at  Feramorz, 
saw  plainly  she  must  wait  for  a  more  courageous  moment. 

But  the  glories  of  Nature,  and  her  wild,  fragrant  airs, 
playing  freshly  over  the  current  of  youthful  spirits,  wall  soon 
heal  even  deeper  wounds  than  the  dull  Fadladeens  of  this 
world  can  inflict.  In  an  evening  or  two  after,  they  came 
to  the  small  Valley  of  Gardens,  which  had  been  planted  by 
order  of  the  Emperor,  for  his  favourite  sister  Rochinara, 
during  their  progress  to  Cashmere,  some  years  before ;  and 
never  was  there  a  more  sparkling  assemblage  of  sweets,  since 
the  Gulzar-e-Irem,  or  Rose-bower  of  Irem.  Every  precious 
flower  was  there  to  be  found,  that  poetry,  or  love,  or  religion 
has  ever  consecrated ;  from  the  dark  hyacinth,  to  which 
Hafez   compares   his   mistress's   hair,''  to   the    Cdmalafd,  by 

a  The  Story  of  Sinbad.  *>  See  Noti's  Hafez,  Ode  v. 


L  A  L  L  A    R  O  O  K  H.  149 


whose  rosy  blossoms  the  heaven  of  Indra  is  scented. '^  As 
they  sat  in  the  cool  fragrance  of  this  delicious  spot,  and 
Lai  LA  RooKH  remarked  that  she  could  fancy  it  the  abode  of 
that  riower-lo"ing  Nymph  whom  they  worship  in  the  temples 
of  Kathay,''  oi  of  one  of  those  Peris,  those  beautiful  creatures 
of  the  air,  who  live  upon  perfumes,  and  to  whom  a  place  like 
this  mifyht  make  some  amends  for  the  Paradise  they  have 
lost,— the  young  Poet,  in  whose  eyes  she  appeared,  while 
she  spoke,  to  be  one  of  the  bright  spiritual  creatures  she 
was  describing,  said,  hesitatingly,  that  he  remembered  a 
Story  of  a  Peri,  w^hich,  if  the  Princess  had  no  objection, 
he  would  venture  to  relate.  "It  is,"  said  he,  with  an 
appealing  look  to  Fadladeen,  "  in  a  lighter  and  humbler 
strain  than  the  other:"  then,  striking  a  few  careless  but 
melancholy  chords  on  his  kitar,  he  thus  began : — 


a  «  The  Cimalata,  (called  by  Linnaeus,  Ipomaea)  is  the  most  beautiful  of  its 
order,  both  in  the  colour  and  form  of  its  leaves  ani  flowers ;  its  elegant  blossoms 
are  'celestial  rosy  red,  Love's  proper  hue,'  and  have  justly  procured  it  the  name 
of  Cumalata,  or  Love's  Creeper."—  Sir  IV.  Jones. 

"  Cumalata  may  also  mean  a  mythological  plant,  by  which  all  desires  are 
granted  to  such  as  inhabit  the  heaven  of  Indra ;  and  if  ever  flower  was  worthy 
of  paradise,  it  is  our  charming  Ipomaea." — Jb. 

^  "According  to  Father  Premare,  in  his  tract  on  Chinese  Mythology,  the 
mother  of  Fo-hi  was  the  daughter  of  heaven,  sumamed  Flower-loving ,  and,  a3 ' 
the  nymph  was  walking  alone  on  the  bank  of  a  river,  she  found  herself  encircled 
by  a  rainbow,  afUir  which  she  became  pregnant,  and,  at  ti.e  end  of  twelve  years, 
was  d'.'Jivcrec  of  a  son  radiant  as  herself." — .^sint  lies. 


k2 


PARADISE  AND   THE   PEEL 


One  morn  a  Peri,  at  the  gate 
Of  Eden  stood,  disconsolate ; 
And  as  she  listened  to  the  Springs 

Of  life  within,  like  music  flowing, 
And  caught  the  light  upon  her  wings 

Through  the  half-open  portal  glowing, 
She  wept  to  think  her  recreant  race 
Should  e'er  have  lost  that  glorious  place  I 


«  How  happy,"  exclaimed  this  child  of  air, 
"Are  the  holy  Spirits  who  wander  there, 

"Mid  flowers  that  never  shall  fade  or  fall! 
"Though  mine  are  the  gardens  of  earth  and  sea, 
"  And  the  stars  themselves  have  flowers  for  me, 

" One  blossom  of  heaven  outblooms  them  all! 


P  A  R  A  D  I  S  E    A  N  D    T  H  E    P  E  R  I.  151 

"  Though  sunny  the  Lake  of  cool  Cashmere, 
"  With  its  plane-tree  Isle  reflected  clear,'' 

"And  sweetly  the  founts  of  that  Valley  fall ; 
"  Though  bright  are  the  waters  of  Sing-su-iiay, 
"And  the  golden  floods  that  thitherward  stray,'' 
"  Yet — Oj  "'tis  only  the  Blessed  can  say 

"  How  the  waters  of  Heaven  outshine  them  all ! 

"Go,  wing  thy  flight  from  star  to  star, 
"  From  world  to  luminous  world,  as  far 

"  As  the  universe  spreads  its  flaming  wall : 
"  Take  all  the  pleasures  of  all  the  spheres, 
"  And  multiply  each  through  endless  years, 

"  One  minute  of  Heaven  is  worth  them  aU!" 

The  glorious  Angel,  who  was  keeping 
The  gates  of  Light,  beheld  her  weeping : 
And,  as  he  nearer  drew  and  listened 
To  her  sad  song,  a  tear-drop  glistened 
Within  his  eyelids,  like  the  spray 

From  Edin's  fountain,  when  it  lies 
On  the  blue  flower,  which — Bramins  say — 

Blooms  nowhere  but  in  Paradise." 

a  «  Numerous  small  islands  emerge  from  the  Lake  of  Cashmere.  One  is 
called  Char  Chcnaur,  from  the  plane-trees  upon  it." — Foster. 

b  «  The  Akan  Kol  or  Golden  river  of  Tibet,  which  runs  into  the  Lc.kes  of 
Sing-uu-hay,  has  abundance  of  gold  in  its  sands,  which  employs  the  inhubitanta 
all  the  summer  in  gathering  it."— Descriplion  of  Tibet  in  Pinkerton. 

c  "  The  Bralimins  of  this  province  insist  that  the  blue  campac  flowers  onli 


152  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 


"Nymph  of  a  fair  but  erring  line  !" 
Gently  he  said — "  One  hope  is  thine. 
"  'Tis  written  in  the  Book  of  Fate, 

"  The  Peri  yet  may  beforgive?! 
"  Who  brings  to  this  Eternal  Gate 

"  The  Gift  that  is  most  dear  to  Heaven 
"Go,  seek  it,  and  redeem  thy  sin — 
"  'Tis  sweet  to  let  the  Pardoned  in." 


Rapidly  as  comets  run 

To  th'  embraces  of  the  Sun, 

Fleeter  than  the  starry  brands 

Flung  at  night  from  angel  hands  ^ 

At  those  dark  and  daring  sprites 

Who  would  climb  th'  empyreal  heights, 

Down  the  blue  vault  the  Peri  flies, 

And,  lighted  earthward  by  a  glance 
That  just  then  broke  from  morning's  eyes, 

Hung  hovering  o'er  our  world's  expanse. 


m  Paradise." — Sir  W.  Jones.  It  appears,  however,  from  a  curious  letter  of  the 
Sultan  of  Menangcahow,  given  by  Marsden,  that  one  place  on  earth  may  lay 
claim  to  the  possession  of  it.  "This  is  the  Sultan,  who  keeps  the  flower  cham- 
paka  that  is  blue,  and  to  be  found  in  no  other  comitry  but  his,  being  yellow 
elsewhere." — Mnrsdeii's  Sumatra. 

'^  "The  Manometans  suppose  that  falling  stars  are  the  firebrands  wherewith 
the  good  angels  drive  away  the  bad,  when  they  approach  too  near  the  empyrean 
or  verge  of  the  neavens." — Fryer. 


PARADISE    AND    THE    PERL 


153 


But  whither  shall  the  Spirit  go 
Tj  find  this  gift  for  Heaven  ? — "  I  know 
•<The  w^ealth,"  she  cries,  "of  every  urn, 
'  In  \\hich  unnumbered  rubies  burn, 
'  Beneath  the  pillars  of  Chilminar  ;  ^ 
'  I  know  where  the  Isles  of  Perfume  are,'' 
'  Many  a  fathom  down  in  the  sea, 
'  To  the  south  of  sunbright  Araby  ;  ° 
'I  know,  too,  where  the  Genii  hid 
'  The  jewelled  cup  of  their  Kingf  Jamshid,'' 
'  With  Life's  elixir  sparkling  high. 
'  But  gifts  like  these  are  not  for  the  sky : 
'  Where  was  there  ever  a  gem  that  shone 
'  Like  the  steps  of  Alla's  wonderful  Throne  ? 
'And  the  Drops  of  Life — 0  !  what  would  they  be 
<In  the  boundless  Deep  of  Eternity?" 


While  thus  she  mused,  her  pinions  fanned 
The  air  of  that  sweet  Indian  land. 


"■  The  Forty  Pillars;  so  the  Persians  call  the  ruins  of  Persepolis.  It  is 
imagined  by  them  that  this  palace  and  the  edifices  at  Balbec  were  built  by 
Genii,  for  the  purpose  of  hiding  in  theu"  subterraneous  caverns  immense  treasures, 
which  still  remain  there." — D'Hcrbelot,  Volncij. 

^  Diodonis  mentions  the  Isle  of  Panchaia,  to  the  south  of  Arabia  FeUx,  whern 
there  was  a  temple  of  Jupiter.  This  island,  or  rather  cluster  of  isles,  has  dis- 
appeared, "sunk  (says  Grandpre)  in  the  abyss  made  by  the  fire  beneath  their 
foundations." — J'otjasc  to  the  Indian  Ocean,. 

<=  The  isles  of  Panchaia. 

^  "The  cup  of  Jamshid,  discovered,  they  ?ay,  when  digging  for  the  founda- 
tions of  P«rsepoIis." — Eichurdson, 


154  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

Whose  air  is  balm  ;  whose  ocean  spreads 
O'er  coral  rocks  and  amber  beds  ;"" 
"Whose  mountains,  pregnant  by  the  beam 
Of  the  warm  sun,  with  diamonds  team ; 
Whose  rivulets  are  like  rich  brides, 
Lovely,  with  gold  beneath  their  tides ; 
Whose  sandal  groves  and  bowers  of  spice 
Might  be  a  Peri's  Paradise ! 
But  crimson  now  her  rivers  ran 

With  human  blood — the  smell  of  death 
Came  reeking  from  those  spicy  bowers, 
And  man,  the  sacrifice  of  man. 

Mingled  his  taint  with  every  breath 
Upwafted  from  the  innocent  flowers. 

Land  of  the  Sun !  what  foot  invades 
Thy  Pagods  and  thy  pillared  shades'' — 


'"^"It  is  not  like  the  Sea  of  India,  whose  bottom  is  rich  with  pearls  and 
ambergris,  whose  mountains  of  the  coast  are  stored  with  gold  and  precious  stones, 
whose  gulfs  breed  creatures  that  yield  ivory,  and  among  the  plants  of  whose 
shores  are  ebony,  red  wood,  and  the  wood  of  Hairzan,  aloes,  camphor,  cloves, 
Bandal-wood,  and  all  other  spices  and  aromatics ;  where  parrots  and  peacocks 
are  cirds  of  the  forest,  and  musk  and  civet  are  collected  upon  the  lands."-^ 
Fravels  of  Tv:o  Mohammedans. 

^ in  the  ground 

The  bended  twigs  take  root,  and  daughters  grow 
About  the  mother  tree,  a  pillared  shade, 
High  over-arched,  and  echoing  walks  between. — Miltox. 
For    a  particular  description  and  plate  of  the  Banyan-tree,  see  Cordiner't 
Ceylon. 


PARADISE    AND    THE    PERI.  I55 


Thy  cavern  shrines,  and  Idol  stones, 

Thy  Monarchs  and  their  thousand  Thrones  ? " 

'Tis  He  of  Gazna" — fierce  in  wrath 

He  comes,  and  India's  diadems 
Lie  scattered  in  his  ruinous  path. — 

His  bloodhounds  he  adorns  with  gems, 
Torn  from  the  violated  necks 

Of  many  a  young  and  loved  Sultana ;  "^ 
Maidens,  within  their  pure  Zenana, 
Priests  in  the  very  fane  he  slaughters, 
And  chokes  up  with  the  glittering  wrecks 
Of  golden  shrines  the  sacred  waters ! 

Downward  the  Peri  turns  her  gaze. 
And,  through  the  war-field's  bloody  haze 
Beholds  a  youthful  warrior  stand, 

Alone  beside  his  native  river, — 
The  red  blade  broken  in  his  hand, 

And  the  last  arrow  in  his  quiver. 


a  "With  this  immense  treasure  Mamood  returned  to  Gliizni,  and  in  theyeni 
400  prepared  a  magnificent  festival,  where  he  displayed  to  the  people  his  wealth 
in  golden  thrones  and  in  other  ornaments,  in  a  great  plain  without  the  city  ol 
Ghizni." — Fcrishta. 

^  "Mahmood  of  Gazna,  or  Ghizni,  who  conquered  India  in  the  beginning 
oi  the  eleventh  century." — See  his  History  in  Doiu  and  Sir  /.  Malcoim. 

c  «It  is  reported  that  the  hunting  equipage  of  the  Sultan  Mahmood  was  so 
magBificent,  that  he  kept  four  hundred  greyhounds  and  bloodhounds,  each  of 
which  wore  a  collar  set  with  jewels,  and  a  covering  edged  with  gold  and  pearls  " 
— Universal  History,  vol.  iii, 


156  1.  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

"  Live,"  said  the  Conqueror,  "  live  to  share 

"  The  trophies  and  the  crowns  I  bear!" 

Silent  that  youthful  warrior  stood — 

Silent  he  pointed  to  the  flood 

All  crimson  with  his  country's  blood, 

Then  sent  his  last  remaining  dart, 

For  answer  to  th'  Invader's  heart. 

False  flew  the  shaft;,  though  pointed  well ; 
The  Tyrant  lived,  the  Hero  fell! — 
Yet  marked  the  Peri  where  he  lay, 

And,  when  the  rush  of  war  was  past, 
Swiftly  descending  on  a  ray 

Of  morning  light,  she  caught  the  last — 
Last  glorious  drop  his  heart  had  shed, 
Before  its  freeborn  spirit  fled ! 

"Be  this,"  she  cried,  as  she  winged  her  flight, 
My  welcome  gift  at  the  Gates  of  Light. 

"  Though  foul  are  the  drops  that  oft  distil 
"  On  the  field  of  warfare,  blood  like  this, 
"  For  Liberty  shed,  so  holy  is,'' 


a  Objections  may  be  made  to  my  use  of  the  word  Liberty  in  this,  and  more 
sgpeciahy  in  the  story  that  follows  it,  as  totally  inapplicable  to  any  state  of 
thmgs  that  has  evei  existed  in  the  East;  but  though  I  cannot,  of  course,  mean 
to  employ  it  in  that  enlarged  and  noble  sense  which  is  so  well  understood  at  the 
present  day,  and,  I  grieve  to  say,  so  little  acted  upon,  yet  it  is  no  disparage- 
ment to  the  word  to  apply  it  to  that  national  independence,  that  freedom  from 


PARADISE    AND    THE    PERL  157 


"  It  would  not  stain  the  purest  rill, 

"  That  sparkles  among  the  Bowers  of  Bliss! 
"  Oj  if  there  be,  on  this  eartlily  sphere, 
"  A  boon,  an  offering  Heaven  holds  dear, 
<'  'Tis  the  last  libation  Liberty  draws 
"From  the  heart  that  bleeds  and  breaks  in  her  cause!" 

"Sweet,"  said  the  Angel,  as  she  gave 

The  gift  into  his  radiant  hand, 
"  Sweet  is  our  welcome  of  the  Brave 

"  Who  die  thus  for  their  native  Land. — 
"But  see — alas! — the  crystal  bar 
"  Of  Eden  moves  not — holier  far 
"  Than  ev'n  this  drop  the  boon  must  be, 
"  That  opes  the  Gates  of  Heaven  for  thee !" 

Her  first  fond  hope  of  Eden  blighted. 
Now  among  Afric's  lunar  Mountains, 

Far  to  the  South,  the  Peri  lighted ; 

And  sleeked  her  plumage  at  the  fountains 


liic  interference  and  dictation  of  foreigners,  without  which,  indeed,  no  liberty 
of  any  kind  can  exist ;  and  for  which  both  Hindoos  and  Persians  fought  agaiiisl 
their  Mussuhnan  invaders  with,  in  many  cases,  a  bravery  that  deserved  much 
better  success. 

a  «The  Mountains  of  the  Moon,  or  the  Montcs  Lunas  of  antiquity,  at  thf. 
foot  of  which  the  Nile  is  supposed  to  aiise." — Bruce. 

"Sometimes  called,"  says  Jackson,  "Jibbel  Kumrie,  or  the  white  or  lunar- 
coloured  miuntains ;  so  a  white  horse  is  called  by  the  Arabians  a  moon-coloured 

horse." 

O 


158  LALLA    ROOKH. 

Of  that  Egyptian  tide — whose  birth 
Is  hidden  from  the  sons  of  earth 
Deep  in  those  sohtary  woods, 
Where  oft  the  Genii  of  the  Floods 
Dance  round  the  cradle  of  their  Nile, 
And  hail  the  new-born  Giant's  smile.* 
Thence  over  Egypt's  palmy  groves. 

Her  grots,  and  sepulchres  of  Kings,^ 
The  exiled  Spirit  sighing  roves : 
And  now  hangs  listening  to  the  doves 
In  warm  Rosetta's  vale " — now  loves 

To  watch  the  moonlight  on  the  wings 
Of  the  white  pelicans  that  break 
The  azure  calm  of  Mceris'  Lake/ 
'Twas  a  fair  scene — a  Land  more  bright 

Never  did  mortal  eye  behold ! 
Who  could  have  thought,  that  saw  this  night 

Those  valleys  and  their  fruits  of  gold 
Basking  in  Heaven's  serenest  light ; — 
Those  groups  of  lovely  date-trees  bending 

Languidly  their  leaf-crowned  heads. 


^  "The  Nile,  which  (he  Abyssinians  know  by  the  names  of  Abey  and 
Alawy,  or  the  Giant." — Jlsiat.  Research,  vol.  i.  p.  387. 

^  See  Perry's  View  of  the  Levant  for  an  account  of  the  sepulchres  in  Uppoi 
Thebes,  and  the  numberless  grots,  covered  all  over  with  hiercglyphics,  in  the 
mountains  of  Upper  Egypt. 

c  «  The  orchards  of  Rosetta  are  filled  with  turtle-doves." — So7ininu 

'1  Savary  mentions  the  pelicans  upon  Lake  Mceris. 


PARADISE    AND    THE    TERI.  159 

Like  youthful  maids,  when  sleep  descending 

Warns  them  to  their  silken  beds ; ''' — 
Those  virgin  lilies,  all  the  night 

Bathing  their  beauties  in  the  lake, 
That  they  may  rise  more  fresh  and  bright. 

When  their  beloved  Sun's  awake ; — 
Those  ruined  shrines  and  towers  that  seem 
The  relics  of  a  splendid  dream ; 

Amid  whose  fairy  loneliness 
Naught  but  the  lapwing's  cry  is  heard, 
Naught  seen  but  (when  the  shadows,  flitting 
Fast  from  the  moon,  unsheath  its  gleam,) 
Some  purple-winged  Sultana''  sitting 

Upon  a  column,  motionless 
And  glittering  like  an  Idol  bird ! — 
Who  could  have  thought,  that  there,  ev'n  there, 
Amid  those  scenes  so  still  and  fair 
The  Demon  of  the  Plague  hath  cast 
From  his  hot  wing  a  deadlier  blast, 
More  mortal  far  than  ever  came 
Fron:!  the  red  Desert's  sands  of  flame  ! 


a  «  The  superb  date-tree,  whose  head  languidly  reclines,  like  that  of  a  hatul- 
some  woman  overcome  with  sleep." — Dafard  el  IlachuL 

^  « That   beautiful    bird,  with   plumage  of  the  finest  shining   blue,  with 
purple  beak    and  legs,  the  natural  and  living    ornament  of   the  temples  and 
palaces  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  which,  from   the  stateliness  of  its  pori, 
as  well  as  the  brilliancy  of  its  colours,  has  obtained  the  title  of  Sultana."- 
Sonnini. 


100  LALLA    ROOKH. 

So  quick,  that  every  living  thing 

Of  human  shape,  touched  by  his  wing. 

Like  plants,  ^vhere  the  Simoom  hath  passed, 

At  once  falls  black  and  withering ! 

The  sun  went  down  on  many  a  brow, 

Wliich,  full  of  bloom  and  freshness  then. 
Is  rankling  in  the  pest-house  now. 

And  ne'er  will  feel  that  sun  again. 
And,  0 !  to  see  th'  unburied  heaps 
On  which  the  lonely  moonlight  sleeps — 
The  very  vultures  turn  away 
And  sicken  at  so  foul  a  prey ! 
Only  the  fierce  hyajna  stalks  ^ 
Throughout  the  city's  desolate  walks* 
At  midnight,  and  his  carnage  plies  : 

Woe  to  the  half- dead  wretch,  who  meets 
The  glaring  of  those  large  blue  eyes  * 

Amid  the  darkness  of  the  streets ! 


^  Jackson,  speaking  of  the  plague  that  occurred  in  West  Barbaiy,  when  he 
was  there,  says,  "  The  birds  of  the  air  fled  away  from  the  abodes  of  men^  The 
hyjEnas,  on  the  contrary,  visited  the  cemeteries,"  &c. 

^  "  Gondar  was  full  of  hyenas  from  the  tune  it  turned  dark,  till  the  dawn 
of  day,  seeking  the  different  pieces  of  slaughtered  carcasses,  which  this  cruel 
and  unclean  people  expose  in  the  streets  without  burial,  and  who  firmly  be- 
lieve that  these  animals  are  Falashta  from  the  neighbouring  mountains,  trans- 
formed by  magic,  and  come  down  to  eat  human  flesh  in  the  dark  in  safety." — 
Bruce. 

«  Bruce. 


PAKADISE    AND    THE    PERI.  KJl 


"Poor  race  of  men !"  said  the  pitying  Spirit, 

"  Dearly  ye  pay  for  your  primal  fall — 
"  Some  flowerets  of  Eden  ye  still  inherit, 

"But  the  trail  of  the  Serpent  is  over  them  all!" 
She  wept — the  air  grew  pure  and  clear 

Around  her,  as  the  bright  drops  ran ; 
For  there's  a  magic  in  each  tear. 

Such  kindly  Spirits  weep  for  man ! 

Just  then  beneath  some  orano-e-trees. 
Whose  fruit  and  blossoms  in  the  breeze 
Were  wantoning  together,  free. 
Like  age  at  play  with  infancy — 
Beneath  that  fresh  and  springing  bower. 

Close  by  the  Lake,  she  heard  the  moan 
Of  one  who,  at  this  silent  hour. 

Had  thither  stolen  to  die  alone. 
One  who  m  life,  w^here'er  he  moved. 

Drew  after  him  the  hearts  of  many ; 
Yet  now,  as  though  he  ne'er  were  loved, 

Dies  here  unseen,  unwept  by  any ! 
None  to  watch  near  him — none  to  slake 

The  Are  that  in  his  bosom  lies. 
With  ev'n  a  sprinkle  from  that  lake. 

Which  shines  so  cool  before  his  eyes. 
No  voice,  well  known  through  many  a  day, 

To  speak  the  last,  the  parting  word. 


1(53  LALLA    ROOKH. 

Which,  when  all  other  sounds  decay, 
Is  still  like  distant  music  heard  ; — 
That  tender  farewell  on  the  shore 
Of  this  rude  world,  when  all  is  o'er, 
Which  cheers  the  spirit,  ere  its  bark 
Puts  off  into  the  unknown  Dark. 


Deserted  youth !  one  thought  alone 

Shed  joy  around  his  soul  in  death — 
That  she,  whom  he  for  years  had  known. 
And  loved,  and  might  have  called  his  -own. 

Was  safe  from  this  foul  midnight's  breath, — 
Safe  in  her  father's  princely  halls. 
Where  the  cool  airs  from  fountain  falls, 
Freshly  perfumed  by  many  a  brand 
Of  the  sweet  wood  from  India's  land. 
Were  pure  as  she  whose  brow  they  fanned. 

But  see — who  yonder  comes  by  stealth,* 

This  melancholy  bower  to  seek, 
Like  a  young  envoy,  sent  by  Health, 

With  rosy  gifts  upon  her  cheek  ? 
'Tis  she — far  off,  through  moonlight  dim, 

He  knew  his  own  betrothed  bride. 


*  This  circumstance  has  often  been  introduced  into  poetry ;-  -by  Vincentius 
Fabricius,  by  Darwiji,  and  lately,  with  very  powerful  effect,  by  Mr.  Wilson. 


PAKADISE    AND    THE    P  E  K  I.  ](i:J 

She,  who  would  rather  die  with  him, 

Thiui  Hve  to  gain  the  world  beside ! — 
Her  arras  are  round  her  lover  now, 

His  livid  cheek  to  hers  she  presses, 
And  dips,  to  bind  his  burning-  brow. 

In  the  cool  lake  her  loosened  tresses. 
Ah !  once,  how  little  did  he  think 
An  hour  would  come,  when  he  should  shrink 
With  horror  from  that  dear  embrace, 

Those  gentle  arms,  that  were  to  him 
Hoi}'  as  is  the  cradling  place 

Of  Eden's  infant  cherubim ! 
And  now  he  yields — now  turns  away. 
Shuddering  as  if  the  venom  lay 
All  in  those  proffered  lips  alone — 
Those  lips  that,  then  so  fearless  grown, 
Never  until  that  instant  came 
Near  his  unasked  or  without  shame. 
*'  0  i  let  me  only  breathe  the  air, 

"The  blessed  air,  that's  breathed  by  thee, 
'<  And,  whether  on  its  wings  it  bear 

"Healing  or  death,  'tis  sweet  to  me! 
"There — drink  my  tears,  while  yet  they  fall— 

"Would  that  my  bosom's  blood  were  balm! 
"And,  well  thou  know'st,  I'd  shed  it  all, 

"  To  give  thy  brow  one  minute's  calm. 


1G4  I^  A  L  L  A    R  0  O  K  H. 

"  Nay,  turn  not  from  me  that  dear  face — 

"  Am  I  not  thine — thy  own  loved  bride — 
"The  one,  the  chosen  one,  whose  place 

"  In  life  or  death  is  by  thy  side  ? 
"  Think'st  thou  that  she,  whose  only  light, 

"In  this  dim  world,  from  thee  hath  shone, 
"  Could  bear  the  long,  the  cheerless  night, 

"That  must  be  hers  when  thou  art  gone? 
"  That  I  can  live,  and  let  thee  go, 
"  Who  art  my  life  itself? — No,  no, — 
"When  the  stem  dies,  the  leaf  that  grew 
"  Out  of  its  heart  must  perish  too ! 
"  Then  turn  to  me,  my  own  love,  turn, 
"Before,  like  thee,  I  fade  and  burn; 
"  Cling  to  these  yet  cool  lips,  and  share 
"  The  last  pure  life  that  lingers  there !" 
She  fails — she  sinks — as  dies  the  lamp 
In  charnel  airs,  or  cavern- damp, 
So  quickly  do  his  baleful  sighs 
Quench  all  the  sweet  light  of  her  eyes. 
One  struggle — and  his  pain  is  past — 

Her  lover  is  no  longer  living ! 
One  kiss  the  maiden  gives,  one  last, 

Long  kiss,  which  she  expires  in  giving 

"  Sleep,"  said  the  Peri,  as  softly  she  stole 
The  farewell  sigh  of  that  vanishing  soul, 


lav:  turn,  not  from  ine  that  dear  face- 


P  AR  ADISE    AND    THE    PE  Ri:  1G{ 

As  true  as  e'er  warmed  a  woman's  breast — 
«  Sleep  on,  in  visions  of  odour  rest, 
"In  balmier  airs  than  ever  yet  stirred 
'  Th'  enchanted  pile  of  that  lonely  bird, 
"  Who  sings  at  the  last  his  own  death-lay,* 
"And  in  music  and  perfume  dies  away!" 

Thus  saying-,  from  her  lips  she  spread 

Unearthly  breathings  through  the  place, 
And  shook  her  sparkling  wreath,  and  shed 

Such  lustre  o'er  each  paly  face. 
That  like  two  lovely  saints  they  seemed, 

Upon  the  eve  of  doomsday  taken 
From  their  dim  graves,  in  odour  sleeping : 

While  that  benevolent  Peri  beamed 
Like  their  good  angel,  calmly  keeping 

Watch  o'er  them  till  their  souls  would  waken. 

But  morn  is  blushing  in  tlie  sky ; 

Again  the  Peri  soars  above, 
Bearing  to  Heaven  that  precious  sigh 

Of  pure  self-sacrificing  love. 


»  "In  the  East,  fhey  supjjose  the  Phoenix  to  have  fifty  orifices  in  lus  bill, 
which  are  continued  to  his  tail ;  and  that,  after  living  one  thousand  years,  he 
builds  himself  a  funeral  pile,  sings  a  melodious  air  of  different  harmonies 
through  his  fifty  organ  jiipes,  flaps  his  wings  with  a  velocity  which  sets  fire  tu 
the  wood,  and  consumes  himsel£" — Rkhardsoti. 


1  GO  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 


High  throbbed  her  heart,  with  hope  elate, 

The  Elysian  pahn  she  soon  shall  win, 
For  the  bright  Spirit  at  the  gate 

Smiled  as  she  gave  that  offering  in ; 
And  she  already  hears  the  trees 

Of  Eden,  with  their  crystal  bells 
Ringing  in  that  ambrcsial  breeze 

That  from  the  throne  cf  Alla  swells ; 
And  she  can  see  the  starry  bowls 

That  lie  around  that  lucid  lake, 
Upon  Avhose  banks  admitted  Souls 

Their  first  sweet  draught  of  glory  take!" 
But  ah !  even  Peris'  hopes  are  vain — 
Ag'ain  the  Fates  forbade,  again 
Th'  immortal  barrier  closed — "Not  yet," 
The  angel  said  as,  with  regret. 
He  shut  from  her  that  glimpse  of  glory — 
"  True  was  the  maiden,  and  her  story. 
"Written  in  light  o'er  Alla's  head, 
"By  seraph  eyes  shall  long  be  read. 
"But,  Peri,  see — the  crystal  bar 
"  Of  Eden  moves  not — holier  far 
"  Than  ev'n  this  sigh  the  boon  must  be 
"That  opes  the  Gates  of  Heaven  for  thee." 

a  "  On  the  shores  of  a  qnadrantrular  lake  stand  a  thousand  goblets,  made  of 
stars,  out  of  which  souls  predesthie  J  to  enjoy  felicity  drink  the  crystal  wave." — 
From  Chateaubriand's  Description  of  the  Mahometan  Paradise,  in  his  Beautiei 
of  Christianity. 


PARADISE    AND    THE    PER  I.  ]<i7 


Now,  upon  Syria's  land  of  roses" 
Softly  the  light  of  Eve  reposes, 
And,  like  a  glory,  the  broad  sun 
Hangs  over  sainted  Lebanon  ; 
Whose  head  in  "wintry  grandeur  towers, 

And  whitens  with  eternal  sleet. 
While  summer,  in  a  vale  of  flowers. 

Is  sleeping  rosy  at  his  feet. 

To  one,  who  looked  from  upper  air 
O'er  ail  th'  enchanted  regions  there. 
How  beauteous  must  have  been  the  glow, 
The  life,  the  sparkling  from  below  ! 
Fair  gardens,  shining  streams,  with  ranks 
Of  golden  melons  on  their  banks. 
More  golden  where  the  sunlight  falls  ;— 
Gay  lizai'ds,  glittering  on  the  walls  ^ 
Of  ruined  ^brines,  busy  and  bright 
As  they  were  all  alive  with  light ; — 
And,  yet  more  splendid,  numerous  flocks 
Of  pigeons,  settling  on  the  rocks. 


"  Richardson  thinks  that  Syria  had  its  name  from  Suri.  a  oeautiful  and  deli 
<ate  species  of  rose,  for  which  tliat  country  has  been  ahvays  famous; — hence, 
Sujistan,  the  Land  of  Roses. 

^  "The  number  of  lizards  I  saw  one  day  in  the  great  court  of  the  Temple 
of  the  Sun  at  Balbec  amounted  to  many  thousands ;  the  ground,  the  walls,  and 
stones  of  the  ruined  buildings,  were  covered  with  them." — Bruce. 


168  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  O  K  H. 

With  their  rich  restless  wings,  that  gleam 
Variously  in  the  crimson  beam 
Of  the  warm  West, — as  if  inlaid 
With  brilliants  from  the  mine,  or  made 
Of  tearless  rainbows,  such  as  span 
Th'  unclouded  skies  of  Peristan. 
And  then  the  mingling  sounds  that  come. 
Of  shepherd's  ancient  reed,''  with  hum 
Of  the  wild  bees  of  Palestine,'' 

Banqueting  through  the  flowery  vales ; 
And,  Jordan,  those  sweet  banks  of  thine, 

And  woods,  so  full  of  nightingales." 

But  naught  can  charm  the  luckless  Peri  ; 
Her  soul  is  sad — her  wings  are  weary — 
Joyless  she  sees  the  Sun  look  down 
On  that  great  Temple,  once  his  own,'' 
Whose  lonely  columns  stand  sublime, 

Flinging  their  shadows  from  on  high, 
Like  dials,  which  the  wizard.  Time, 

Has  raised  to  count  his  ages  by ! 


^  "  The  S3Tinx  or  Pan's  pipe  is  still  a  pastoral  instrument  in  Syria." — Russel, 

*•  "  Wild  bees,  frequent  in  Palestine,  in  hollow  trunks  or  branches  of  trees, 
ind  the  clefts  of  rocks.  Thus  it  is  said,  (Psalm  Ixxxi.,)  '  honey  out  of  the  stony 
rock'  " — Burder's  Oriental  Customs. 

<=  "  The  river  Jordan  is  on  both  sides  beset  with  little,  thick,  and  pleasant 
*voods,  among  which  thousands  of  nightingales  warble  all  together." — Thevenot 

^  The  Temple  of  the  Sun  at  Balbec. 


PARADISE    AND    THE    PERI.  169 

Yet  lapiy  there  may  lie  concealed 

"Beneath  those  Chambers  of  the  Sun, 
Some  amulet  of  gems,  annealed 
In  upper  fires,  some  tablet  sealed 

With  the  great  name  of  Solomon, 

Which,  spelled  by  her  illumined  eyes, 
May  teach  her  where,  beneath  the  moon, 
In  earth  or  ocean,  lies  the  boon. 
The  charm,  that  can  restore  so  soon 

An  erring-  Spirit  to  the  skies. 

Cheered  by  this  hope,  she  bends  her  thither ; — 

Still  laughs  Ihe  radiant  eye  of  Heaven, 

Nor  have  the  golden  bowers  of  Even 
In  the  rich  West  begun  to  wither ; — 
When,  o'er  the  vale  of  Balbec  winging 

Slowly,  she  sees  a  child  at  play. 
Among  the  rosy  wild  flowers  singing. 

As  rosy  and  as  wild  as  they ; 
Chasing,  with  eager  hands  and  eyes. 
The  beautiful  blue  damsel-flies,'' 
That  fluttered  round  the  jasmine  stems, 
Like  winged  flowers  or  flying  gems ; — 


"^  «  You.  behold  there  a  considerable  number  of  a  remarkable  species  of  beau- 
fitul  insects,  tlie  elegance  of  whose  appearance,  and  their  attire,  procured  for  them 
the  name  of  Damsels.'' — Sonniift. 

P 


170  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  O  K  H. 

And,  near  the  boy,  who,  tired  witn  p.d")^ 
Now  nestUng  mid  the  roses  lay, 
She  saw  a  wearied  man  dismount 

From  his  het  steed,  and  on  the  brink 
Of  a  small  imaret's  rustic  founts 

Impatient  fling  him  down  to  drink. 
Then  swift  his  haggard  brow  he  turned 

To  the  feir  child,  who  fearless  sat. 
Though  never  yet  hath  daybeam  burned 

Upon  a  brow  more  fierce  than  that, — 
Sullenly  fierce — a  mixture  dire. 
Like  thunder-clouds,  of  gloom  and  fire ; 
In  which  the  Peri's  eye  could  read 
Dark  tales  of  many  a  ruthless  deed ; 
The  ruined  maid — the  shrine  profaned — 
Oaths  broken — and  the  threshold  stained 
With  blood  of  guests  !^-^/;ere  written,  all, 
Black  as  the  damning  drops  that  fall 
From  the  denouncing  Angel's  pen, 
Ere  Mercy  weeps  them  out  again. 

Yet  tranquil  now  that  man  of  crime 
(As  if  the  balmy  evening  time 


''  Imaret,  "hospice  ou  on  lege  el  noun  it,  gratis,  les  pelerins  pendant  trois 
jours." — Toderini,  translated  by  the  Mbe  de  Cuurnand. — See  also  CasteUam 
Mceurs  des  Othomans,  torn.  v.  p.  145. 


Then  swift  his^  haggard  brow  he  lurn'd 
To  the  fair  child,  who  feailess  sat 
Though  never  yet  hath  day-beam 
Upon  a  brow  more  fierce  than 


PARADISE    AND    THE    PERI  171 

Soilened  his  spirit)  looked  and  lay, 
Watching  the  rosy  infant's  play : — 
Though  still,  whene'er  his  eye  by  chance 
Fell  on  the  boy's,  its  lurid  glance 
^  Met  that  unclouded,  joyous  gaze, 
As  torches,  that  have  burnt  all  night 
Through  some  impure  and  godless  rite, 
Encounter  'norning's  glorious  rays. 

But,  hark !  the  vesper  call  to  prayer, 

As  slow  the  orb  of  daylight  sets. 
Is  rising  sweetly  on  the  air, 

From  Syria's  thousand  minarets ! 
The  boy  has  started  from  the  bed 
Of  flowers,  \there  he  had  laid  his  head, 
4nd  down  upon  the  fragrant  sod 

Kneels,"^  with  his  forehead  to  the  south. 


^  "Such  Turks  as  at  the  common  hours  of  prayer  are  on  the  road,  or  so 
employed  as  not  to  find  convenience  to  attend  the  mosques,  are  still  obliged  to 
execute  that  duty ;  nor  are  they  ever  known  to  fail,  whatever  business  thej^  are 
then  about,  but  pray  immediately  when  the  hour  alarms  them,  whatever  they  are 
about,  in  that  very  place  they  chance  to  stand  on;  insomuch  that  when  a 
janissary,  whom  vou  have  to  guard  you  up  and  down  the  city,  hears  the  notice 
which  is  given  him  from  the  steeples,  he  will  turn  about,  stand  still,  and  beckon 
with  Ills  hand,  to  tell  his  charge  he  must  have  patience  for  awhile;  when, 
taking  out  his  handkerchief,  he  spreads  it  on  the  ground,  sits  cross-legged  there- 
upon, and  says  his  prayers,  though  in  the  open  market,  which  havijig  ended, 
ne  leaps  briskly  up,  salutes  the  person  whom  he  undertook  to  convey,  and 
renews  his  journey  with  the  mild  expression  of  Ghcll  gohnnimi  ghdl,  or  Come, 
dear,  follow  me." — Aaron  H\2's  Travels. 


172  L  ALL  A    RO  OKH. 

Lisping  th'  eternal  name  of  God 

From  Purity's  own  cherub  mouth. 
And  looking,  while  his  hands  and  eyes 
Are  lifted  to  the  glowing  slcies. 
Like  a  stray  babe  of  Paradise, 
Just  lighted  on  that  flowery  jilain, 
And  seekinof  for  its  home  ajrain. 
0  !  'twus  a  sight — that  heaven — that  child — 
A  scene,  which  might  have  well  beguiled 
Even  haughty  Eblis  of  a  sigh 
For  glories  lost  and  peace  gone  by ! 

And  how  felt  he,  the  wretched  Man 

Reclhiing  there — while  memory  ran 

O'er  many  a  year  of  guilt  and  strife, 

Flew  o'er  the  dark  flood  of  his  life. 

Nor  found  one  sunny  resting-place, 

Nor  brought  him  back  one  branch  of  grace  ? 

"There  loas  a  time,"  he  said,  in  mild, 
Heart-humbled  tones,  "  thou  blessed  child! 
"  When,  young,  and  haply  pure  as  thou, 
"I  looked  and  prayed  like  thee — but  now — '* 
He  hung  his  head — each  nobler  aim. 

And  hope,  and  feeling,  which  had  slept 
From  boyhood's  hour,  that  instant  came 

Fresh  o'er  him,  and  he  wept — he  wept' 


P  A  K  A  D  I  S  E    AND    THE    P  E  It  I.  17ii 


Blest  tears  of  soul-felt  penitence ! 

In  whose  benign,  redeeming  flow 
Is  felt  the  first,  the  only  sense 

Of  guiltless  joy  that  guilt  can  know. 


♦'There's  a  drop,"  said  the  Pkri,  "that  down  from  the 

moon 
"  Falls  tlirough  the  withering  airs  of  June 
"Upon  Egypt's  land,'^  of  so  healing  a  power, 
"So  balmy  a  vnlue,  that  ev'n  in  the  hour 
"  That  drop  descends,  contagion  dies, 
"  And  health  re-animates  earth  and  skies ! — 
"  0,  is  it  not  thus,  thou  man  of  sin 

"The  precious  tears  of  repentance  fall? 
"  Though  foul  thy  fiery  plagues  witiiin, 

"One  heavenly  drop  hath  dispelled  them  all!" 


And  now — behold  him  kneeling  there 
By  the  child's  side,  in  humble  prayer. 
While  the  same  sunbeam  sliines  upon 
The  guihy  and  the  guiltless  one, 
And  hymns  of  joy  proclaim  through  Heaven 
The  triumph  of  a  Soul  Forgiven! 

»  The  IS'ucla,  or  Miraculous  Drop,  which  falls  in  Egypt  precisely  ou  St. 
John's  day,  in  June,  and  is  supposed  to  have  the  elfcct  of  stopping  the  plague. 

p  a 


174  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 

'Twas  when  the  golden  orb  had  set, 
While  on  their  knees  they  lingered  yet, 
There  fell  a  light  more  lovely  far 
Than  ever  came  from  sun  or  star. 
Upon  the  tear  that,  warm  and  meek, 
Dewed  that  repentant  sinner's  cheek. 
To  mortal  eye  this  light  might  seem 
A  northern  flash  or  meteor  beam — 
But  well  th'  enraptured  Pkri  knew 
'Twas  a  bright  smile  the  Angel  threw 
From  Heaven's  Gate,  to  hail  that  tear 
Her  harbinger  of  glory  near! 


"  Joy,  joy  for  ever!  my  task  is  done — 

"  The  Gates  are  passed,  and  Heaven  is  won! 

"  0  !  am  I  not  happy?     I  am,  I  am — 

"  To  thee,  sweet  Eden !  how  dark  and  sad 
<'  Are  the  diamond  turrets  of  Shadukiam,* 

"And  the  fragrant  bowers  of  Amberabad! 


"Farewell,  ye  odours  of  earth,  that  die 
"  Passing  away  like  a  lover's  sigh ; — 


"  The  Country  of  Delight — the  name  of  a  province  in  the  kingdom  of  Jii> 
nistan,  or  Fairy  Land,  the  capital  of  which  is  called  the  City  of  Jewels  Am« 
berabad  is  another  of  the  cities  of  Jinnistan. 


PARADISE    AND    THE    T  E  R  I.  175 

"My  feast  is  now  of  the  Tooba  Tree,* 
"Whose  scent  is  the  breath  of  Eternity! 
"Farewell,  ye  vanishing  flowers,  that  shone 

"In  my  fairy  wreath,  so  bright  and  brief; 
"  0 !  what  are  the  brightest  that  e'er  have  blown, 
"To  the  lote-tree,  springing  by  Alla's  throne," 

"  Whose  flowers  have  a  soul  in  every  leaf! 
"Joy,  joy  for  ever! — my  task  is  done — 
"The  Gates  are  passed,  and  Heaven  is  won!" 


^  The  tree  Tooba,  that  stands  in  Paradise,  in  the  palace  ot  Mahomet.  See 
Salens  Prelim.  Disc. — Tooba,  says  UHciheht,  signilies  beatitude,  or  eternal 
happiness. 

b  Mahomet  is  described,  in  the  fifty-third  chapter  of  the  Koran,  as  having 
seen  the  angel  Gabriel  "by  the  lote-tree,  beyond  which  there  is  no  passing: 
near  it  is  the  Garden  of  Eternal  Abode."  This  tree,  say  the  commentators, 
stands  in  the  seventh  Heaven,  on  the  right  liand  of  the  Throoe  of  Gc' 


176  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 


"And  this,"  said  the  Great  Chamberlain,  "is  poetry! 
this  flimsy  manufacture  of  the  brain,  which,  in  comparison 
with  the  lofty  and  durable  monuments  of  genius,  is  as  the 
gold  filagree-work  of  Zamara  beside  the  eternal  architecture 
of  Egypt!"  After  this  gorgeous  sentence,  which,  with  a 
few  more  oi-  the  same  kind,  Fadladeen  kept  by  him  for 
rare  and  important  occasions,  he  proceeded  to  the  anatomy 
of  the  short  poem  just  recited.  The  lax  and  easy  kind  of 
metre  in  which  it  was  written  ought  to  be  denounced,  he 
said,  as  one  of  the  leading  causes  of  the  alarming  growth 
of  poetry  in  our  times.  If  some  check  were  not  given  to 
this  lawless  facility,  we  should  soon  be  overrun  by  a  race 
of  bards  as  numerous  and  as  shallow  as  the  hundred  and 
twenty  thousand  Streams  of  Basra. '^  They  who  succeeded 
in  this  style  deserved  chastisement  for  their  very  success ; — 
as  warriors  have  been  punished,  even  after  gaining  a  victory, 
because  they  had  taken  the  liberty  of  gaining  it  in  an 
irregular  or  unestablished  manner.  What,  then,  was  to  be 
said  to  those  who  failed  ?    to  those  who  presumed,  as  in  the 

a  "It  is  said  that  the  rivers  or  streams  of  Basra  were  reckoned  in  the  time 
of  Pelal  ben  Abi  Bordeh,  and  amounted  to  the  number  of  one  hundred  and 
twenty  thousand  streams." — E6h  Hankal. 


li  A  L  L  A    R  O  O  K  H.  177 


present  lamentable  instance,  to  imitate  the.  license  and  ease 
of  the  bolder  sons  of  song,  -without  any  of  that  grace  or 
vigour  which  gave  a  dignity  even  to  negligence; — who, 
like  them,  flung  the  jereed''  carelessly,  but  not,  like  them, 
to  the  mark;— "and.  who,"  said  he,  raising  his  voice  to 
excite  a  proper  degree  of  wakefulness  in  his  hearers,  "con- 
trive to  appear  heavy  and  constrained  in  the  midst  of  all 
the  latitude  they  allow  themselves,  like  one  of  those  young 
pagans  that  dance  before  the  Princess,  who  is  ingenious 
enough  to  move  as  if  her  limbs  were  fettered,  in  a  pair  of 
the  lightest  and  loosest  drawers  of  Masulipatam!" 

It  was  but  little  suitable,  he  continued,  to  the  grave 
march  of  criticism  to  follow  this  fantastical  Peri,  of  whom 
they  had  just  heard,  through  all  her  flights  and  adventures 
between  earth  and  heaven ;  but  he  could  not  help  adverting 
to  the  puerile  conceitedness  of  the  Three  Gifts  which  she  is 
supposed  to  carry  to  the  skies, — a  drop  of  blood,  forsooth, 
a  sigh,  and  a  tear!  How  the  first  of  these  articles  was 
delivered  into  the  Angel's  "  radiant  hand"  he  professed 
himself  at  a  loss  to  discover ;  and  as  to  the  safe  carriage  of 
the  sigh  and  the  tear,  such  Peris  and  such  poets  were  beings, 
by  far  too  incomprehensible  for  him  even  to  guess  how  they 
managed  such  matters.  "But,  in  short,"  said  he,  "it  is  a 
waste  of  time  and  patience  to  dwell  longer  upon  a  thing  so 

^  The  name  of  the  javelin  witK  -.vliich  the  Easterns  exercise See  Caslellun, 

McEurs  dcs  Othomaiis,  torn.  iii.  p.  161. 


ITS  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  O  K  H. 


incurably  frivolous, — puny  even  among  its  own  puny  race, 
and  such  as  only  the  Banyan  Hospital^  for  Sick  Insects 
should  undertake." 

In  vain  did  Lalla  Rookh  try  to  soften  this  inexorable 
critic ;  in  vain  did  she  resort  to  her  most  eloquent  common- 
places,— reminding  him  that  poets  were  a  timid  and  sensitive 
race,  whose  sweetness  was  not  to-be  drawn  forth,  like  that 
of  the  fragrant  grass  near  the  Ganges,  by  crushing  and 
trampling  upon  them ;  ^ — that  severity  often  extinguished 
every  chance  of  the  perfection  which  it  demanded ;  and  that, 
after  all,  perfection  was  like  the  Mountain  of  the  Talisman, — 
no  one  had  ever  yet  reached  its  summit. =  Neither  these 
gentle  axioms,  nor  the  still  gentler  looks  with  which  they 
were  inculcated,  could  lower  for  one  instant  the  elevation  of 
Fadladeen's  eyebrows,  or  charm  him   into    any  thing   like 


«  "This  account  excited  a  desire  of  visiting  the  Banyan  Hospital,  as  I  had 
heard  much  of  their  benevolence  to  all  kinds  of  animals  that  were  either  sick, 
lame,  or  infirm,  through  age  or  accident.  On  my  arrival,  there  were  presented 
to  my  view  many  horses,  cows,  and  oxen,  in  one  apartment ;  in  another,  dogs, 
sheep,  goats,  and  monkeys,  with  clean  straw  for  them  to  rej)0se  on.  Above 
stairs  were  depositories  for  seeds  of  many  sorts,  and  flat,  broad  dishes  for  water, 
for  the  use  of  birds  and  insects." — Parson^s  Travels. 

It  is  said  that  all  animals  know  the  Banyans,  that  the  most  timid  approach 
them,  and  that  buds  will  fly  nearer  to  them  than  to  other  people. — See  Grand  pre. 

b  "A  very  fragrant  grass  from  the  banks  of  the  Ganges,  near  Heridwar, 
which  in  some  places  covers  whole  acres,  and  diiluses,  when  crushed,  a  strong 
odour." — Sir  W.  Jones  on  the  Spikenard  of  the  Ancients. 

•=  "Near  this  is  a  curious  hill,  called  Koh  Talism,  the  Mountain  of  the 
Talisman,  because,  according  to  the  traditions  of  the  country,  no  person  ever 
succeeded  in  gaining  its  summit." — Kinneir. 


LALLA    ROOKH.  179 


encouragement,  or  even  toleration,  of  her  poet.  Toleration, 
indeed,  was  not  among  the  weaknesses  of  Fadladeen  ; — 
he  carried  the  same  spirit  into  matters  of  poetry  and  of 
religion,  and,  though  little  versed  in  the  beauties  or  sublimities 
of  either,  was  a  perfect  master  of  the  art  of  persecution  in 
both.  His  zeal  was  the  same,  too,  in  either  pursuit ;  whether 
the  game  before  him  was  pagans  or  poetasters, — worshippers 
of  cows,  or  writers  of  epics. 

They  had  now  arrived  at  the  splendid  city  of  Lahore, 
whose  mausoleums  and  shrines,  magnificent  and  numberless 
where  Death  appeared  to  share  equal  honours  with  Heaven 
would  have  powerfully  affected  the  heart  and  imagination  of 
Lalla  Rookh,  if  feelings  more  of  this  earth  had  not  taken 
entire  possession  of  her  already.  She  was  here  met  by 
messengers,  despatched  from  Cashmere,  who  informed  her 
that  the  King  had  arrived  in  the  Valley,  and  was  himself 
superintending  the  sumptuous  preparations  that  were  then 
making  in  the  Saloons  of  the  Shalimar  for  her  reception. 
The  chill  she  felt  on  receiving  this  intelligence, — which  to  a 
bride  whose  heart  was  free  and  lig^t  would  have  brought  only 
images  of  affection  and  pleasure, — convinced  her  that  her 
peace  was  gone  for  ever,  and  that  she  was  in  love,  irretiiev- 
ably  m  love,  with  young  Feramorz.  The  veil  had  fallen  off 
m  which  this  passion  at  first  disguises  itself,  and  to  know  that 
she  loved  was  now  as  painful  as  to  love  vnthout  knowing  it 
had  been  delicious.     Feramorz,  too — what  misery  would  be 


180  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

his,  if  the  sweet  hours  of  intercourse  so  imprudently  allowed 
them  should  have  stolen  into  his  heart  the  same  fatal  fascina- 
tion as  into  hers; — if,  notwithstanding  her  I'ank,  and  the 
modest  homage  he  always  paid  to  it,  even  lie  should  have 
yielded  to  the  influence  of  those  long  and  happy  interviews, 
where  music,  poetry,  the  delightful  scenes  of  nature, — all  had 
tended  to  bring  their  hearts  close  together,  and  to  waken  by 
every  means  that  too  ready  passion,  which  often,  like  the 
young  of  the  desert-bird,  is  warmed  into  life  by  the  eyes 
alone  !  ^  She  saw  but  one  way  to  preserve  herself  from  being 
culpable  as  well  as  unhappy,  and  this,  however  painful,  she 
was  resolved  to  adopt.  Feramorz  must  no  more  be  admitted 
to  her  presence.  To  have  strayed  so  far  into  the  dangerous 
labyrinth  was  wrong,  but  to  linger  in  it,  while  the  clew  was 
yet  in  her  hand,  would  be  criminal.  Though  the  hieart  she 
had  to  offer  to  the  King  of  Bucharia  might  be  cold  and 
broken,  it  should  at  least  be  pure ;  and  she  must  only 
endeavour  to  forget  the  short  dream  of  happiness  she  had 
enjoyed, — like  that  Arabian  shepherd,  who,  in  wandenng 
into  the  wilderness,  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  Gardens  of  Irim, 
and  then  lost  them  again  for  ever ! " 

The  arrival  of  the  young  Bride  at  Lahore  was  celebrated 
in  the  most  enthusiastic  manner.     The  Rajas  and  Omras  in 

«  The  Arabians  believe  that  the  ostriches  hatch  their  young  by  only  look 
ing  at  them." — P.  Vanskbe,  Rclat.  (TEgyptc. 
^  &ee  Sales  Koran,  note,  vol.  ii.  p.  484, 


L  ALL  A    R  0  0  KH.  igj 


her  train,  who  had  kept  at  a  certain  distance  during  the 
journey,  and  Jiever  encamped  nearer  to  the  Princess  than 
was  strictly  nec(!ssary  for  her  safeguard,  here  rode  in  splendid 
cavalcade  through  the  city,  and  distributed  the  most  costly 
presents  to  the  crowd.  Engines  were  erected  in  all  the 
squares,  which  cast  forth  sliowers  of  confectionary  among 
the  people:  while  the  artisans,  in  chariots,'^  adorned  with 
tinsel  and  flying  streamers,  exhibited  the  badges  of  their 
respective  trades  through  the  streets.  Such  brilliant  displays 
of  life  and  pageantry  among  the  palaces,  and  domes, 'and 
gilded  minarets  of  Lahore,  made  the  city  altogether  like  a 
place  of  enchantment ; — particularly  on  the  day  when  Lalla 
RooKH  set  out  again  upon  her  journey,  when  she  was 
accompanied  to  the  gate  by  all  the  fairest  and  richest  of 
the  nobility,  and  rode  along  between  ranks  of  beautiful 
boys  and  girls,  who  kept  waving  over  their  heads  plates  of 
gold  and  silver  flowers,"  and  then  threw  them  around  to  be 
gathered  by  the  populace. 

For  many  days  after  their  departure  from  Laliore,  a 
considerable  degree  of  gloom  hung  over  the  whole  party. 
Lali.a  Rookh,  who  had  intended  to  make  illness  her 
excuse  for  not  admitting   the  young   minstrel,   as   usual,  to 

a  Oriental  Talcs. 

b  Feiiilita.  "  Or  rather,"  says  Scolt,  upon  the  passage  of  Ferishta  frorn 
which  this  is  taken,  "small  coins,  stamped  with  the  figure  of  a  flower.  They 
ate  still  used  in  India  to  distribute  in  charity,  and,  on  occasion,  thrown  by  ihe 
purse-bearers  cl  the  great  among  the  populace." 

Q 


182  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

the  pavilion,  soon  found  that  to  feign  indisposition  was 
unnecessary; — Fadladeen  felt  the  loss  of  the  good  road 
they  had  hitherto  travelled,  and  was  very  near  cursins^ 
Jehan-Guire  (of  blessed  memory!)  for  not  having  continued 
his  delectable  alley  of  trees,'"'  at  least  as  far  as  the  moun- 
tains of  Cashmere ; — while  the  Ladies,  who  had  nothing  now 
to  do  all  day  but  to  be  fanned  by  peacocks'  feathers  and 
listen  to  Fadladeen,  seemed  heartily  weary  of  the  life  they 
led,  and,  in  spite  of  all  the  Great  Chamberlain's  criticisms, 
were  so  tasteless  as  to  wish  for  the  poet  again.  One 
evening,  as  they  were  proceeding  to  their  place  of  rest  for 
the  night,  the  Princess,  who,  for  the  freer  enjoyment  of  the 
air,  had  mounted  her  favourite  Arabian  palfrey,  in  passing 
by  a  small  grove,  heard  the  notes  of  a  lute  from  within  its 
leaves,  and  a  voice,  which  she  but  too  well  knew,  sinmnsf 
the  following-  words : — 


Tell  me  not  of  joys  above. 
If  that  world  can  give  no  bliss. 

Truer,  happier  than  the  Love 
Which  enslaves  our  souls  in  this. 


a  The  fine  road  made  by  the  Emperor  Jehan-Guire  from  Agra  to  Lahore, 
olanted  with  trees  on  each  side.  The  road  is  two  hundred  and  tifty  leagues 
in  length.  It  has  « little  pyramids  or  turrets,"  says  Firmer,  "  erected  every 
half  league,  to  mark  the  ways,  and  frequent  wells  to  afford  drink  to  passengers^ 
and  to  water  the  young  trees." 


L  A  L  L  A    R  O  O  K  H.  183 


Tell  me  not  of  Houris'  eyes ; — 
Far  from  me  their  dangerous  glow. 

If  those  looks  that  light  the  skies 
Wound  like  some  that  burn  below. 

Who,  that  feels  what  Love  is  here, 
All  its  falsehood — all  its  pain — 

Would,  for  ev'n  Elysium's  sphere, 
Risk  the  fatal  dream  again  ? 

Wlio,  that  midst  a  desert's  heat 
Sees  the  waters  fade  away. 

Would  not  rather  die  than  meet 
Streams  again  as  false  as  they  ? 


The  tone  of  melancholy  defiance  in  which  these  words 
were  uttered,  went  to  Lalla  Rookh's  heart; — and,  as  she 
reluctantly  rode  on,  she  could  not  help  feeling  it  to  be  a 
sad  but  still  sweet  certainty,  that  Feramorz  was  to  the  full 
as  enamoured  and  miserable  as  herself. 

The  place  where  they  encamped  that  evening  was  the  first 
delightful  spot  they,  had  come  to  since  they  left  Lahoie.  On 
one  side  of  them  was  a  grove  full  of  small  Hindoo  temples, 
and  planted  with  the  most  graceful  trees  of  the  East ;  where 
the  tamarind,  the  cassia,  and  the  silken  plantains  of  Ceylon 


184  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 

were  mingled  in  rich  contrast  with  the  high  fan-like  foliage 
of  the  Palmyra, — that  favourite  tree  of  the  luxurious  bird  that 
lights  up  the  chambers  of  its  nest  with  fire-flies/  In  the 
middle  of  the  lawn  where  the  pavilion  stood  there  was  a  tank 
surrounded  by  small  mangoe-trees,  on  the  clear  cold  waters 
of  which  floated  multitudes  of  the  beautiful  red  lotus;''  while 
at  a  distance  stood  the  ruins  of  a  strange  and  awful-looking 
tower,  which  seemed  old  enough  to  have  been  the  temple  of 
some  religion  no  longer  known,  and  which  spoke  the  voice 
of  desolation  in  the  midst  of  all  that  bloom  and  loveliness. 
This  singular  ruin  excited  the  wonder  and  conjectures  of  all. 
Lalla  Rookh  guessed  in  vain,  and  the  all-pretending  Fad- 
LADEEN,  who  had  never  till  this  journey  been  beyond  the 
precincts  of  Delhi,  was  proceeding  most  learnedly  to  show 
that  he  knew  nothing  whatever  about  the  matter,  when  one 
of  the  Ladies  suggested  that  perhaps  Feramorz  could  satisfy 
their  curiosity.  They  were  now  approaching  his  native 
mountains,  and  this  tower  might  perhaps  be  a  relic  of  some 
of  those  dark  superstitions,  wdiich  had  prevailed  in  thai 
country  before  the  light  of  Islam  dawned  upon  it.  The 
Chamberlain,  who  usually  preferred  his  owm  ignorance  to  the 
best  knowledge  that  any  one  else  could  give  him,  was  by  no 


The  Baya,  or  Indian  Gross-beak. — Sir  W.  Jones. 
^  "  Here  is  a  large  pagoda  by  a  tank,  on  the  water  of  which  float  multitudes 
of  the  beautiful  red  lotus:  the  flower  is  larger  than  that  of  the  white  water-lily 
and  is  the  most  lovely  of  the  nymphaeas  I  have  seen." — Mrs.  Graham's  Journal 
of  a  Residence  in  Lidia. 


L  A  L  L  A     R  0  0  K  H.  185 

means  pleased  with  this  officious  reference ;  and  the  Princess, 
too,  was  about  to  interpose  a  faint  word  of  objection ;  but 
before  either  of  them  could  speak,  a  slave  was  despatched 
for  Feramorz,  who,  in  a  very  few  minutes,  made  his  appear- 
ance before  them — looking  so  pale  and  unhappy  in  Lalla 
Rookh's  eyes,  that  she  repented  already  of  her  cruelty  in 
havins:  so  lone:  excluded  him. 


That  venerable  tower,  he  told  them,  was  the  remains  of 
an  ancient  Fire  Temple,  built  by  those  Ghebers  or  Persians 
of  the  old  religion,  who,  many  hundred  years  since,  had  fled 
hither  from  their  Arab  conquerors, "^  preferring  liberty  and 
their  altars  in  a  foreign  land  to  the  alternative  of  apostasy  or 
persecution  in  their  own.  It  was  impossible,  he  added,  not 
to  feel  interested  in  the  many  glorious  but  unsuccessful 
struggles,  which  had  been  made  by  these  original  natives 
of  Persia  to  cast  off  the  yoke  of  their  bigoted  conquerors. 
Like  their  owm  Fire  in  the  Burning  Field  at  Bakou,''  when 
suppiessed  in  one  place,  they  had  but  broken  out  with  fresh 
flame  in  another;  and  as  a  native  of  Cashmere,  of  that  fair 
and  Holy  Valley,  which  had  in  the  same  manner  become  the 


a  "  On  \es  voit  persecutes  par  les  Khalifcs  se  retirer  dans  les  montagnes  du 
Kerman :  plusieurs  choisirent  pour  rctraite  la  Tartaric  et  la  Chine ;  d'aufrcs 
s'arreterent  sur  les  bords  du  Gangc,  a  Test  do  Dellii." — M.  JInquctit,  Memoire* 
dc  I'Academie,  torn.  xxxi.  p.  316. 

>  The  «  Ager  ardens"  described  by  Kcmpfer,  Ammiitat.  Exot. 

q2 


186  LALLA    ROOKH. 

prey  of  strangers/  and  seen  her  ancient  slirines  and  native 
princes  swept  away  before  the  march  of  her  intolerant 
invaders,  he  felt  a  sympathy,  he  owned,  with  the  sufferings 
of  the  persecuted  Ghebers,  which  every  monument  like  this 
before  them  but  tended  more  powerfully  to  awaken. 

It  w^as  the  first  time  that  Feramorz  had  ever  ventured 
upon  so  much  prose  before  Fadladeen,  and  it  may  easily  be 
conceived  what  effect  such  prose  as  this  must  have  produced 
upon  that  most  orthodox  and  most  pagan-hating  personage. 
He  sat  for  some  minutes  aghast,  ejaculating  only  at  intervals, 
"Bigoted  conquerors! — sympathy  wdlh  Fire-worshippers!"" 
— while  Feramorz,  happy  to  take  advantage  of  this  almost 
speechless  horror  of  the  Chamberlain,  proceeded  to  say  that 
he  knew  a  melancholy  story,  connected  with  the  events  of 
one  of  those  struggles  of  the  brave  Fire-worshippers  against 
their  Arab  masters,  which,  if  the  evening  was  not  too  far 
advanced,  he  should  have  much  pleasure  in  being  allowed  to 
relate  to  the  Princess.  It  was  impossible  for  Lalla  Rookh 
to    refuse : — he  had  never  before  looked  half  so   animated ; 


a  "  Cashmere  (say  its  historians)  had  its  own  princes  four  thousand  years 
before  its  conquest  by  Akbar  in  1585.  Akbar  would  have  found  some  difficulty 
to  reduce  tliis  paradise  of  the  Indies,  situated  as  it  is  within  such  a  fortress  of 
mountains,  but  its  monarch,  Yusef-Khan,  was  basely  betrayed  by  his  Omralis." 
—  Pennant. 

^  Voltaire  tells  us  that,  in  his  Tragedy  "Les  Guebres,"  he  was  generally 
supposed  to  have  alluded  to  the  Janscnists.  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  this 
story  of  the  Fire-worshippers  were  found  capable  of  a  similar  doubleucss  of 
application. 


L  A  L  L  A    R  0  O  K  H  137 


and  when  he  spoke  of  the  Holy  Valley,  his  eyes  had  sparkled, 
she  thought,  like  the  talismanic  characters  on  the  scimitar 
of  Solomon.  Her  consent  was  therefore  most  readily 
granted ;  and  while  Fadladeen  sat  in  unspeakable  dismay, 
expectiincr  treason  and  abomination  in  every  line,  tjie  poet 
thus  began  his  story  of  the  Fire- worshippers : — 


THE   PIKE-WOESHIPPERS. 


'Tis  moonlififht  over  Oman's  Sea;* 

Her  banks  of  pearl  and  palmy  isles 
liask  in  the  night-beam  beauteously, 

AncT  her  blue  waters  sleep  in  smiles 
'Tis  moonlight  in  Harmozia's''  walls, 
And  through  her  Emir's  porphyry  halls. 
Where  some  hours  since,  was  heard  the  swell 
Of  trumpet  and  the  clash  of  zel,* 
Bidding  the  bright-eyed  sun  farewell; — 
The  peaceful  sun,  Avhom  better  suits 

The  music  of  the  bulbul's  nest, 
Or  the  light  touch  of  lovers'  lutes, 

To  sinj]-  him  to  his  p:olden  rest^ 


a  The  Persian  Gulf,  sometimes  so  called,  which  separates  the  shores  ot  Persia 
end  Arabia. 

^  The  present  Gombaroon,  a  town  on  the  Persian  side  of  the  Gulf, 
c  A  Moorish  instrument  of  music. 

188 


THE    F  I  R  E  -  W  O  R  S  H  I  P  P  E  R  S.  jwg 

All  hushed — there's  not  a  breeze  in  motion ; 

The  shore  is  silent  as  the  ocean. 

If  zephyrs  come,  so  light  they  come, 

Nor  leaf  is  stirred  nor  wave  is  driven  ; — 
The  wind-tower  on  the  Emir's  dome  '^ 

Can  hardly  win  a  breath  from  heaven. 

Ev'n  he,  that  tyrant  Arab,  sleeps 

Calm,  while  a  nation  round  him  weeps ; 

While  curses  load  the  air  he  breathes, 

And  falchions  from  unnumbered  sheaths 

Are  starting  to  avenge  the  shame 

His  race  hath  brought  on  Iran's''  name. 

Hard,  heartless  Chief,  unmoved  alike 

'Mid  eyes  that  weep,  and  swords  that  strike ; 

One  of  that  saintly,  murderous  brood, 

To  carnage  and  the  Koran  given, 
Who  think  through  unbelievers'  blood 
Lies  their  directest  path  to  heaven ; — ■ 
One,  who  will  pause  and  kneel  unshod 

In  the  warm  blood  his  hand  hath  poured. 
To  mutter  o'er  some  text  of  God 

Engraven  on  his  reeking  sword  ;" — 

a  "  At  Gombaroon  and  other  places  in  Persia,  they  have  towers  for  the  pui- 
pose  of  catching  the  wind,  and  cooUng  the  houses." — Le  Bniyn. 

^  "  Iran  is  the  true  general  name  for  the  empire  of  Persia." — Jsiat.  Res.  Disc.  5. 

c  "On  the  blades  of  their  scimitars  some  verse  from  the  Koran  is  usually 
inscribed." — liussel. 


190  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  O  K  H. 

Nay,  who  can  coolly  note  the  line, 
The  letter  of  tliose  words  divine, 
To  which  his  blade,  with  searching  art, 
Had  sunk  into  its  victim's  heart ! 


Just  Alla  !  what  must  be  thy  look. 

When  such  a  wretch  before  thee  stands 
Unblushing,  with  thy  Sacred  Book,— 

Turning  the  leaves  with  blood-stained  hands, 
And  wresting  from  its  page  sublime 
His  creed  of  lust,  and  hate,  and  crime ; — 
Ev'n  as  those  bees  of  Trebizond, 

Which,  from  the  sunniest  flowers  that  glad 
With  their  pure  smile  the  gardens  round, 

Draw  venom  forth  that  drives  men  mad.** 

Never  did  fierce  Arabia  send 

A  satrap  forth  more  direly  great ; 
Never  was  Iran  doomed  to  bend 

Beneath  a  yoke  of  deadlier  weight. 
Her  throne  had  fallen — her  pride  was  crushed — 
Her  sons  were  willing  slaves,  nor  blushed 
In  their  o^^•n  land, — no  more  their  own, — 
To  crouch  beneath  a  stransfer's  throne. 


3  "There  is  a  kind  of  Rhododendros  about  Trebizond,  whose  flowers  the 
Bee  feeds  upon,  and  the  honey  thence  drives  people  mad." — Tournefort. 


THE    F  I  R  E  -  W  0  K  S  II  I  P  P  E  R  S.  ]91 

Her  towers,  where  Mithra  once  had  burned, 

To  Moslem  shrines — 0  shame  ! — were  turned, 

Where  slaves,  converted  by  the  sword. 

Their  mean,  apostate  worship  poured, 

And  cursed  the  faith  their  sires  adored. 

Yet  has  she  hearts,  mid  all  this  ill, 

O'er  all  this  wreck  high  buoyant  still 

With  hope  and  vengeance  ; — hearts  that  yet- 
Like  gems,  in  darkness,  issuing  rays 

They've  treasured  from  the  sun  that's  set — 
Beam  all  the  light  of  long-lost  days ! 

And  swords  she  hath,  nor  weak  nor  slow 
To  second  all  such  hearts  can  dare  ; 

As  he  shall  know,  well,  dearly  know 
\Viio  sleeps  in  moonlight  luxury  there, 

Tranquil  as  if  his  spirit  lay 

Becalmed  m  Heaven's  approving  ray. 

Sleep  on — for  purer  eyes  than  thine 

Those  waves  are  hushed,  those  planets  shine , 

Sleep  on,  and  be  thy  rest  unmoved 

By  the  white  moonbeam's  dazzling  power  ;• 

None  but  the  loving  and  the  loved 
Should  be  awake  at  this  sweet  hour. 

And  see — where,  high  above  those  rocks 
That  o'er  the  deep  their  shadows  fling, 
Yon  turret  stands  ; — where  ebon  locks, 


1<J2  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

As  glossy  as  a  heron's  wing 

Upon  the  turban  of  a  king,'' 
Hang  from  the  lattice,  long  and  wild, — 
'Tis  she,  that  Emir's  blooming  child, 
All  truth  and  tenderness  and  grace, 
Though  born  of  such  ungentle  race ; — 
An  image  of  Youth's  radiant  Fountain 
Sprniging  in  a  desolate  mountain !  " 
0,  what  a  pure  and  sacred  thing 

Is  Beauty,  curtained  from  the  sight 
Of  the  gross  world,  illumining 

One  only  mansion  with  her  light ! 
Unseen  by  man's  disturbing  eye, — 

The  flower  ti.at  blooms  beneath  the  sea. 
Too  deep  for  sunbeams,  doth  not  lie 

Hid  in  more  chaste  obscurity. 
So,  HiNDA,  haA'e  thy  face  and  mind, 
Like  holy  mysteries,  lain  enshrined. 
And,  0,  what  transport  for  a  lover 

To  lift  the  veil  that  shades  them  o'er !- — 
Like  those  who,  all  at  once,  discover 

In  the  lone  deep  some  fairy  shore, 

Where  mortal  never  trod  before. 


a  "Their  kings  wear  plumes  of  black  herons'  feathers  upon  the  tight  side, 
as  a  badge  of  sovereigntj'." — Hainmy. 

^  "  The  Fountain  of  Youth,  by  a  ]\Iahometan  tradition,  is  situated  in  some 
dark  region  of  the  East." — Richardson. 


THE    F  I  R  i:  -  W  O  R  S  H  I  P  P  E  R  S.  193 

And  sleep  and  wake  in  scented  airs 
No  iip  had  ever  breathed  but  theirs. 

Beautiful  ai"e  the  maids  that  ghde, 

On  summer-eves,  through  Yemen's ""  dales, 
And  bright  the  glancing  looks  they  hide 

Behind  their  litters'  roseate  veils  ; — 
And  brides,  as  delicate  and  fair 
As  the  white  jasmine  flowers  they  wear, 
Hath  Yemen  in  her  blissful  clime, 

Who,  lulled  in  cool  kiosk  or  bower, ^ 
Before  their  mirrors  count  the  time,*" 

And  grow  still  lovelier  every  hour. 


a  Arabia  Felix. 

b  "  In  the  midst  of  the  garden  is  the  chiosk,  that  is,  a  large  room,  commonly 
beautified  with  a  fine  fountain  in  the  midst  of  it.  It  is  raised  nine  or  ten  steps, 
and  enclosed  with  gilded  lattices,  round  which  vines,  jessamines,  and  honey- 
suckles, make  a  sort  of  green  wall ;  large  trees  are  planted  round  this  place, 
which  is  the  scene  of  their  greatest  pleasures." — Lady  M.  W.  Montagu. 

c  The  women  of  the  East  are  never  without  their  looking-glasses.  "  In 
Barbary,"  says  Shaiv,  "they  are  so  fond  of  their  looking-glasses,  which  they 
hang  upon  their  breasts,  that  they  will  not  lay  them  aside,  even  when,  after 
the  drudgery  of  the  day,  they  are  obliged  to  go  two  or  three  miles  with  a  pitcher 
or  a  goat's  skin  to  fetch  water." — Travels. 

In  other  parts  of   Asia  they  wear  little  looking-glasses  on  their  thumbs. 
« Hence  (and  from  the  lotus  being  considered  the  emblem  of  beauty)  is  tlio 
meaning  of  the  following  mute  intercourse  of  two  lovers  before  theur  parents : — 
"  '  He,  with  salute  of  deference  due, 
A  lotus  to  his  forehead  pressed ; 
She  raised  her  mirror  to  his  view. 

Then  turned  it  inward  to  her  breast.'  " 

Asiatic  Miscellany,  vol.  ii. 
R 


104  L  ALL  A    RO  OKH. 

But  never  yet  hath  bride  or  maid 

In  Araby's  gay  Haram  smiled, 
Whose  boasted  brightness  would  not  fade 

Before  Al  Hassan's  blooming  child. 

Light  as  the  angel  shapes  that  bless 
An  infant's  dream,  yet  not  the  less 
Rich  in  all  woman's  loveliness  ; — 
With  eyes  so  pure,  that  from  their  ray 
Dark  Vice  would  turn  abashed  away, 
Blinded  like  serpents,  when  they  gaze 
Upon  the  emerald's  virgin  blaze  ;  '^ — 
Yet  fdled  with  all  youth's  sweet  desires, 
Mingling  the  meek  and  vestal  fires 
Of  other  worlds  with  all  the  bliss. 
The  fond,  weak  tenderness  of  this ; 
A  soul,  too,  more  than  half  divine. 

Where,  through  some  shades  of  earthly  feeling, 
Religion's  softened  glories  shine. 

Like  light  through  summer  foliage  stealing, 
Shedding  a  glow  of  such  mild  hue, 
So  warm,  and  yet  so  shadowy  too. 
As  makes  the  very  darkness  there 
More  beautiful  than  lio-ht  elsewhere. 


»  «  They  say  that  if  a  snake  or  serpent  fix  his  eyes  on  tlie  lustre  of  those 
elones,  (emeralds,)  he  immediately  becomes  blind.'" — Mined  hen  Abdalaziz, 
Treatise  on  Jewels. 


THE    F  I  R  E  -  VV  O  n  S  H  I  P  P  E  R  S.  195 


Such  is  the  maid  who,  at  this  hour, 

Hath  risen  from  her  restless  sleep, 
And  sits  alone  in  that  high  bower, 

Watching  the  still  and  shining  deep. 
All !   'twas  not  thus, — with  tearful  eyes 

And  beating  heart, — she  used  to  gaze 
On  the  magnificent  earth  and  skies, 

In  her  own  land,  in  happier  days. 
Why  looks  she  now  so  anxious  down 
Among  those  rocks,  whose  rugged  frown 

Blackens  the  mirror  of  the  deep  ? 
Whom  Avaits  she  all  this  lonely  night  ? 

Too  rough  the  rocks,  too  bold  the  steep. 
For  man  to  scale  that  turret's  height ! — 

So  deemed  at  least  her  thoughtful  sire. 

When  high,  to  catch  the  cool  night-air, 
After  the  daybeam's  withering  fire,^ 

He  built  her  bower  of  freshness  there, 
And  had  it  decked  with  costliest  skill. 

And  fondly  thought  it  safe  as  fair : — 
Think,  reverend  dreamer !  think  so  still, 

Nor  wake  to  learn  what  Love  can  dare ; — 
Love,  all-defying  Love,  who  sees 
No  charm  in  trophies  won  with  ease  ; — 

°  "At  Gombaroon  and  the  Isle  of  Ormus  it  is  sometimes  so  hot,  tliui  tne 
people  are  obliged  to  lie  all  day  in  the  water." — Marco  Folo. 


196  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  U, 

Whose  rarest,  dearest  fruits  of  bliss 
Are  plucked  on  danger's  precipice ! 
Bolder  than  they,  who  dare  not  dive 

For  pearls,  but  when  the  sea's  at  rest, 
Love,  in  the  tempest  most  alive. 

Hath  ever  held  that  pearl  the  best 
He  fmds  beneath  the  stormiest  water. 
Yes — Araby's  unrivalled  daughter. 
Though  high  that  tower,  that  rock-way  rude, 

There's  one  who,  but  to  kiss  thy  cheek, 
Would  climb  th'  untrodden  solitude 

Of  Ararat's  tremendous  peak,"^ 
And  think  its  steeps,  though  dark  and  dread, 
Heaven's  pathways,  if  to  thee  they  led ! 
Ev'n  now  thou  seest  the  flashing  spray, 
That  lights  his  oar's  impatient  way ; — 
Ev'n  now  thou  hear'st  the  sudden  shock 
Of  his  swift  bark  against  the  rock, 


3  "  Tliis  mountain  is  generally  supposed  to  be  inaccessible.  Sli-iiy  says, 
••  I  can  well  assure  the  reader  that  their  opinion  is  not  true,  who  suppose  this 
mount  to  be  inaccessible."  He  adds,  that  "the  lower  part  of  the  mountain  is 
cloudy,  misty,  and  dark,  the  middlemost  part  very  cold,  and  like  clouds  oi  snow, 
but  the  upper  regions  perfectly  calm." — It  was  on  this  mountain  that  the  ark 
WIS  supposed  to  have  rested  after  the  Deluge,  and  part  of  it,  they  say,  exists 
there  stih,  which  Struy  thus  gravely  accounts  for: — "Whereas  none  can 
remember  that  the  air  on  the  top  of  the  hill  did  ever  change  or  was  subject  either 
to  wind  or  rain,  which  is  presumed  to  be  the  reason  that  the  Ark  has  endured 
so  long  without  being  rotten." — See  Carreri's  Travels,  where  the  Doctor  laughs 
at  this  whole  account  of  Mount  Ararat. 


THE    F  I  R  E  -  W  0  R  S  11 1  P  P  E  R  S.  197 

Ani  stretches!  down  thy  arms  of  snow, 

As  if  to  hft  him  from  below  ! 

Like,  her  to  whom,  at  dead  of  night, 

The  bridegroom,  with  his  locks  of  light, ^ 

Came,  in  the  flush  of  love  and  pride, 

And  scaled  the  terrace  of  his  bride ; — 

When,  as  she  saw  him  rashly  spring. 

And  midway  up  in  danger  cling, 

She  flung  him  down  her  long  black  hair, 

Exclaiming,  breathless,  "There,  love,  there!" 

And  scarce  did  manlier  nerve  uphold 

The  hero  Zal  in  that  fond  hour, 
Than  wings  the  youth  who,  fleet  and  bold, 

Now  climbs  the  rocks  to  Hinda's  bower. 
See — light  as  up  their  granite  steeps 

The  rock-goats  of  Arabia  clamber,^ 
Fearless  from  crag  to  crag  he  leaps, 

And  now  is  in  the  maiden's  chamber. 

She  loves — but  knows  not  whom  she  loves, 
Nor  what  his  race,  nor  whence  he  came  ; — 


a  In  one  of  the  books  of  the  Shilh  Numeh,  wlien  Zal  (a  cclcbraTcJ  liero 
of  Persia,  remarkable  for  his  white  hair)  comes  to  the  terrace  of  his  mistress 
Rodahver  at  night,  she  lets  down  her  long  tresses  to  assist  him  in  his  ascent ; — 
he,  however,  manages  it  in  a  less  romantic  way  by  fixing  his  crook  in  a  projecting 
beam." — See  ChampiniL's  Ferdosi. 

**  "On  the  lofty  hilk  of  Arabia  Petrsea  arc  lock-goats," — Nkbu/ir. 
b2 


198  LALLAROOKH. 

Like  one  who  meets,  in  Indian  groves, 

Some  beauteous  bird  without  a  name, 
Brought  by  the  last  ambrosial  breeze. 
From  isles  in  th'  undiscovered  seas, 
To  show  his  plumage  for  a  day 
To  wondering  eyes,  and  wdng  away ! 
Will  he  thus  fly — her  nameless  lover  ? 

Alla  forbid  !  'twas  by  a  moon 
As  fair  as  this,  while  singing  over 

Some  ditty  to  her  soft  Kanoon,^ 
Alone,  at  this  same  watching  hour. 

She  first  beheld  his  radiant  eyes 
Gleam  through  the  lattice  of  the  bower, 

Where  nightly  now  they  mix  their  sighs ; 
And  thought  some  spirit  of  the  air 
(For  what  could  waft  a  mortal  there  ?) 
Was  pausing  on  his  moonlight  way 
To  listen  to  her  lonely  lay  ! 
This  fancy  ne'er  hath  left  her  mind  : 

And — though,  when  terror's  swoon  had  past, 
She  saw  a  youth,  of  mortal  kind. 

Before  her  in  obeisance  cast, — 
Yet  often  since,  when  he  hath  spoken 
Strange,  awful  words, — and  gleams  have  broken 


^  "  Canun,  espece  de  psalterion,  avec  des  cordes  de  boyaux ;  les  dames  ea 
touchent  dans  le  serriil,  avec  des  decailles  armees  de  pointes  de  cooc" — 
Toderini,  translated  if  De  Cournand. 


THE    F  I  R  E  -  W  0  R  S  H  I  P  P  E  R  S.  199 

From  his  dark  eyes,  too  bright  to  bear, 

0 !  she  hath  feared  her  soul  was  given 
To  some  unhallowed  child  of 'air. 

Some  erring  Spirit  cast  from  heaven. 
Like  those  angelic  youths  of  old. 
Who  burned  for  maids  of  mortal  mould. 
Bewildered  left  the  glorious  skies, 
And  lost  their  heaven  for  woman's  eyes. 
Fond  girl !  nor  fiend  nor  angel  he 
Who  wooes  thy  young  simplicity ; 
But  one  of  earth's  impassioned  sons, 

As  warm  in  love,  as  fierce  in  ire 
As  the  best  heart  whose  current  runs 

Full  of  the  Day-God's  living  fire. 


But  quenched  to-night  that  ardour  seems, 

And  pale  his  cheek,  and  sunk  his  brow  ; — 
Never  before,  but  in  her  dreams, 

Had  she  beheld  him  pale  as  now : 
And  those  were  dreams  of  troubled  sleep, 
From  which  'twas  joy  to  wake  and  weep  ; 
Visions,  that  will  not  be  forgot. 

But  sadden  every  waking  scene, 
Like  warning  ghosts,  that  leave  the  spot 

All  withered  where  they  once  have  been. 


200  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  O  K  H. 

<'How  sweetly,"  said  the  trembling  maid. 
Of  her  own  gentle  voice  afraid, 
So  long  had  they  in  silence  stood, 
Looking  upon  that  tranquil  flood — 
"How  sweetly  does  the  moonbeam  smile 
"  To-night  upon  yon  leafy  isle  ! 
"  Oft,  in  my  fancy's  wanderings, 
"  I've  wished  that  little  isle  had  wings, 
"And  we,  within  its  fairy  bowers, 

"  Were  wafted  off  to  seas  unknown, 
"  Where  not  a  pulse  should  beat  but  ours, 

"And  we  might  live,  love,  die  alone  '. 
"Far  from  the  cruel  and  the  cold, — 

"Where  the  bright  eyes  of  angels  only 
"  Should  come  around  us,  to  behold 

"A  paradise  so  pure  and  lonely. 
"Would  this  be  world  enough  for  thee  ?" — 
Playful  she  turned,  that  he  might  see 

The  passing"  smile  her  cheek  put  on  ; 
But  when  she  marked  how  mournfully 

fiis  eyes  met  hers,  that  smile  w'as  gone ; 
And,  bursting  into  heartfelt  tears, 
"Yes,  yes,"  she  cried,  "  my  hourly  fears, 
"My  dreams  have  boded  all  too  right — 
"  We  part — for  ever  part — to-night ! 
"I  knew,  I  knew  it  could  not  last — 
"  'Twas  bright,  'twas  heavenly,  but  'tis  past ! 


THE    FIRE-WO  RS  II  IPPE  RS.  201 


"  0  !  ever  thus,  from  childhood's  hour, 

"  I've  seen  my  fondest  hopes  decay  ; 
*'I  never  loved  a  tree  or  flower, 

"But  'twas  the  first  to  fade  away. 
"  I  never  nursed  a  dear  gazelle, 

"  To  glad  me  with  its  soft  black  eye, 
"But  when  it  came  to  know  me  well, 

"  And  love  me,  it  was  sure  to  die ! 
"Now  too — the  joy  most  like  divine 

"  Of  all  I  ever  dreamt  or  knew, 
"  To  see  thee,  hear  thee,  call  thee  mine, — - 

"  0  misery !  must  I  lose  tliat  too ! 
"Yet  go — on  peril's  brink  we  meet; 

"  Those  frightful  rocks — that  treacherous  sea — 
"  No,  never  come  again — though  sweet, 

"  Though  heaven,  it  may  be  death  to  thee. 
"Farewell — and  blessings  on  thy  way, 

"Where'er  thou  go'st,  beloved  stranger  1 
"Better  to  sit  and  watch  that  ray, 
"And  think  thee  safe,  though  far  away, 

"Than  have  thee  near  me,  and  in  danger!'' 


"Danger! — 0,  tempt  me  not  to  boast — " 
The  youth  exclaimed — "  thou  little  know'st 
"  What  he  can  brave,  who,  born  and  nursed 
"  In  Danger's  paths,  has  dared  her  worst; 


202 


LALL    L    ROOKH. 


Upon  whose  ear  the  t,ignal-word 
"  Of  strife  and  death  is  hourly  breaking; 

Who  sleeps  with  head  upon  the  sword 
"His  fevered  hand  must  grasp  in  waking. 

Danger!" 

"  Say  on — thou  fear'st  not  tnen, 

And  we  may  meet — oft  meet  again!" 

0 !  look  not  so — beneath  the  skies, 

I  now  fear  nothing  but  those  eyes. 

If  aught  on  earth  could  charm  or  force 

My  spirit  from  its  destined  course, — 

If  aught  could  make  this  soul  forget 

The  bond  to  which  its  seal  is  set, 

'Twould  be  those  eyes ; — they,  only  they. 

Could  melt  that  sacred  seal  away ! 

But  no — 'tis  fixed — my  awful  doom 

Is  fixed — on  this  side  of  the  tomb 

We  meet  no  more ; — why,  why  did  Heaven 

Mingle  two  souls  that  earth  has  riven. 

Has  rent  asunder  wide  as  ours  ? 

0,  Arab  maid,  as  soon  the  Powers 

Of  Light  and  Darkness  may  combine, 

As  I  be  linked  with  thee  or  thine ! 

Thy  Father " 

"Holy  Alla,  save 
"His  gray  heac  from  that  lightning  glance- 


THE    FIRE-WORSFIPPERS.  203 


"Thou  know'st  him  not — he  lo^es  the  brav.' 

"Nor  Kves  there  under  heaven's  expanse 
"  One  Avlio  woukl  prize,  would  worship  'ih?:- 
"And  thy  bokl  spirit  more  than  he. 
"  Oft  when,  in  chiklhood,  I  have  playcv 

"  With  the  bright  fakhion  by  his  sid' 
"  I've  heard  him  swear  his  lisping  maio 

"  In  time  should  be  a  warrior's  bride 
"  And  still,  whene'er  at  Haram  hours, 
"I  take  him  cool  sherbets  and  flowers, 
"  He  tells  me,  when  in  playful  mood, 

"A  hero  shall  my  bridegroom  be, 
"  Since  maids  are  best  in  battle  wooed, 

"  And  won  with  shouts  of  victory ! 
"Nay,  turn  not  from  me — thou  alone 
"  Art  formed  to  make  both  hearts  thy  o^vn. 
"  Go — ^join  his  sacred  ranks — thou  know'st 

"  Th'  unholy  strife  these  Persians  wage : — 
"Good  Heaven,  that  frown! — even  now  thou  glow'st 

"  With  more  than  mortal  v-^arrior's  rage. 
"Haste  to  the  camp  by  morning's  light, 
"And,  when  that  sword  is  raised  in  fight, 
"  0,  still  remember.  Love  and  I 
"Beneath  its  shadow  trembling  lie ! 
"  One  victory  o'er  those  Slaves  of  Fire, 
"  Those  impious  Ghebers,  whom  my  sire 
"Abhors " 


204  LALLA    ROOKH. 

"Hold,  bold — thy  wojds  are  death — " 

The  stranger  cried,  as  wild  he  flung 
His  mantle  back,  and  showed  beneath 

The  Gheber  belt  that  round  him  clung.'' — 
"  Here,  maiden,  look — weep — blush  to  see 
"All  that  thy  sire  abhors  in  me! 
"  Yes — /  am  of  that  impious  race, 

"Those  Slaves  of  Fire,  who,  morn  and  even 
"Hail  their  Creator's  dwelhng-place 

"  Among  the  living  lights  of  heaven ;  ^ 
"Yes — /am  of  that  outcast  few, 
"To  Iran  and  to  vengeance  true, 

^  "  They  (the  Ghebers)  lay  so  much  stress  on  their  cushee  or  girdle,  as  not 
to  dare  to  be  an  instant  without  it." — Grose's  Voyage. — "Le  jeune  homme  nia 
d'abord  la  chose ;  mais,  ayant  ete  depouille  de  sa  robe,  et  la  large  ceinture  qu'il 

portoit  comme  Ghebr,"  &c.  &c D'Herbelot,  art.  Agduani.   "  Pour  se  distinguer 

des  Idolatres  de  I'lnde,  les  Guebres  se  ceignent  tous  d'un  cordon  de  laine,  ou  de 
poil  de  chameau." — Encydopedie  Frangoise. 

D'Herbelot  says  this  belt  was  generally  of  leather. 

^  "They  suppose  the  Throne  of  the  Almighty  is  seated  in  the  sun,  and  hence 
their  worship  of  that  luminary." — Hanway.  "  As  to  fire,  the  Ghebers  place 
the  spring-head  of  it  in  that  globe  of  fire,  the  Sun,  by  them  called  Mythras,  or 
Mihir,  to  which  they  pay  the  highest  reverence,  in  gratitude  for  the  manifold 
benefits  flowing  from  its  ministerial  omniscience.  But  they  are  so  far  from 
confounding  the  subordination  of  the  Servant  with  the  majesty  of  its  Creator, 
that  they  not  only  attribute  no  sort  of  sense  or  reasoning  to  Uie  sun  or  fire,  in 
any  of  its  operations,  but  consider  it  as  a  purelj-  passive,  blind  instrument, 
directed  and  governed  by  the  immediate  impression  on  it  of  the  will  of  God ; 
but  they  do  not  even  give  that  luminary,  all-glorious  as  it  is,  more  than  the 
second  rank  amongst  his  works,  reserving  the  first  for  that  stupendous  production 
of  di\dne  power,  the  mind  of  man." — Grose.  The  false  charges  brought  against 
the  religion  of  thesr>  people  by  their  Mussulman  tyrants  is  hut  one  proof  among 
many  of  the  truth  of  this  writer's  remark,  that  "  calumny  is  often  added  X*i 
oppression,  if  but  for  the  sake  of  justifying  it." 


THE    F  I  R  E  -  W  0  R  S  H  I  ?  P  E  R  S.  205 

«  Who  curse  tlie  hour  your  Arabs  came 
<'  To  desokite  nur  shrines  of  flame, 
"And  swear,  before  God's  burning  eye, 
"  To  break  our  country's  chains,  or  die ! 
"Tliy  bigot  sire, — nay,  tremble  not, — • 

"He,  who  gave  birth  to  those  dear  eyes, 
"  With  me  is  sacred  as  the  spot 

"  From  which  our  fires  of  worship  rise ! 
"But  know — 'twas  he  I  sought  that  niglit, 

"  When,  from  my  watch-boat  on  the  sea, 
"  I  caught  this  turret's  ghmmering  hght, 

"And  up  the  rude  rocks  desperately 
"  Rushed  to  my  prey — thou  know'st  the  rest — 
"I  climbed  the  gory  vulture's  nest, 
"And  found  a  trembling  dove  within; — 
"  Thine,  thine  the  victory — thine  the  sin — 
"  If  Love  hath  made  one  thought  his  own, 
'•'•  That  Vengeance  claims  first — last — alone ! 
"  0  !  had  we  never,  never  met, 
"  Or  could  this  heart  ev'n  now  forget 
"  How  linked,  how  blessed  we  might  have  been, 
"Had  fate  not  frowned  so  dark  between! 
"  Hadst  thou  been  born  a  Persian  maid, 

"In  neighbouring  valleys  had  we  dwelt, 
«  Through  the  same  fields  in  childhood  played, 

"  At  the  same  kindling  ahar  knelt, 


206  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 


"  Then,  then,  while  all  those  nameless  ties, 
"  In  which  the  charm  of  Country  lies, 
"Had  round  our  hearts  been  hourly  spun, 
"Till  Iran's  cause  and  thine  were  one; 
"While  in  thy  lute's  awakening  sigh 
"I  heard  the  voice  of  days  gone  by, 
"  And  saw,  in  every  smile  of  thine, 
"  Returning  hours  of  glory  shine  ;-* 
"  While  the  wronged  Spirit  of  our  Land 

"  Lived,  looked,  and  spoke  her  wrongs  inrough 
thee, — 
"  God !  who  could  then  this  sword  withstand  ? 

"  Its  very  flash  were  victory ! 
"But  now, — estranged,  divorced  for  ever, 
" Far  as  the  grasp  of  Fate  Can  sever; 
"Our  only  ties  what  Love  has  wove, — 

"In  faith,  friends,  country,  sundered  Wide  ; 
"  And  then,  then  only,  true  to  love, 

"  When  false  to  all  that's  dear  beside ! 
"  Thy  father  Iran's  deadliest  foe — 
"  Thyself,  perhaps,  ev'n  now — but  no — 
"  Hate  never  looked  so  lovely  yet ! 

"  No — sacred  to  thy  soul  will  be 
"  The  land  of  him  who  could  forget 

"All  but  that  bleeding  land  for  thee. 
"  When  other  eyes  shall  see,  unmoved, 

"Her  widows  mourn,  her  warriors  fall, 


'Fiercely  he  broke  smslv.  nor  st' 
"Nor  look'd  -but  from  the  latlicL 
Down  mid  die  pointed  crags  b-i 
As  if  he  fled  from  lo7e  to  deat 


THE    FIRE- WORSHIPPERS.  207 

"  Thou'lt  think  how  well  one  Gheber  loved, 

"  And  for  his  sake  thou'lt  weep  for  all ! 

<' But  look " 

With  sudden  start  he  turned. 

And  pointed  to  the  distant  wave, 
Where  lights,  like  charnel  meteors,  burned 

Bluely,  as  o'er  some  seaman's  grave  ; 
And  fiery  darts,  at  intervals," 

Flew  up  all  sparkling  from  the  main. 
As  if  each  star  that  nightly  falls. 

Were  shooting  back  to  heaven  again. 

"  My  signal  lights  ! — I  must  away — 

"  Both,  both  are  ruined  if  I  stay. 

"  Farewell — sweet  life !  thou  cling'st  in  vain — 

"  Now,  Vengeance,  I  am  thine  again !" 

Fiercely  be  broke  away,  nor  stopped. 

Nor  looked — but  from  the  lattice  droppea 

Down  mid  the  pointed  crags  beneath, 

As  if  he  fled  from  love  to  death. 

While  pale  and  mute  young  Hinda  stood, 

Nor  moved,  till  in  the  silent  flood 

A  momentary  plunge  below 

Startled  her  from  her  trance  of  woe  ; — 


a  "I'he  Mamcluks  that  were  in  the  other  boat,  when  it  was  dark,  used 
to  shoot  up  a  sort  of  fiery  arrows  into  the  air,  which  in  some  measure  resembled 
lightning  or  falling  stars." — Baumgarten. 


208  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

Shrieking  she  to  the  lattice  flew, 

"  I  come — I  come — if  in  that  tide 
«'  Thou  sleep'st  to-night,  Fll  sleep  there  too, 

"In  death's  cold  wedlock,  by  thy  side. 
"  0  !  I  would  ask  no  happier  bed 

" Than  the  chill  wave  my  love  lies  under; 
"  Sweeter  to  rest  together  dead, 

"Far  sweeter,  than  to  live  asunder!" 
But  no — their  hour  is  not  yet  come — 

Again  she  sees  his  pinnace  fly, 
Wafting  him  fleetly  to  his  home, 

Where'er  that  ill-starred  home  may  he ; 
And  calm  and  smooth  it  seemed  to  wm 

Its  moonlight  way  before  the  ^vind, 
As  if  it  bore  all  peace  within. 

Nor  left  one  brealcino-  heart  behmd  ? 


L  A  L  L  A    R  O  O  K  11.  209 


The  Princess,  Avhose  heart  was  sad  enough  ah'eady. 
could  have  wished  that  Feramorz  had  chosen  a  less  melan- 
chol}'  story ;  as  it  is  only  to  the  happy  that  tears  are  a 
luxury.  Her  Ladies,  however,  were  by  no  means  sorrj 
that  love  was  once  more  the  Poet's  theme ;  for,  whenever 
he  spoke  of  love,  they  said,  his  voice  was  as  sweet  as  if  he 
had  chewed  the  leaves  of  that  enchanted  tree,  which  grows 
over  the  tomb  of  the  musician,  Tan-Sein.* 

Their  road  all  the  morning  had  lam  through  a  very 
dreary  country ; — through  valleys,  covered  with  a  low  bushy 
jungle,  where,  in  more  than  one  place,  the  a\\'ful  signal  of 
the  bam.boo  staff,"  with  the  white  flag   at  its  top,  reminded 


a  u  Within  the  enclosure  which  surrounds  this  monument  (at  Gualior)  is  a 
small  tomb  to  the  memory  of  Tan-Sein,  a  musician  of  incomparable  skill,  who 
flourished  at  the  court  of  Akbar.  The  tomb  is  overshadowed  by  a  tree,  con- 
cerning which  a  superstitious  notion  prevails,  that  the  chewing  of  its  leaves  will 
give  an  extraordinaiy  melody  to  the  voice.'' — Narrative  of  a  Journey  from  j3gra 
to  Ouzeiii,  by  W.  Hunter,  Esq. 

"■>  "It  is  usual  to  place  a  small  white  triangular  flag,  fixed  to  a  1  ainboo  staff 
of  ten  or  twelve  feet  long,  at  the  place  where  a  tiger  has  destroyed  a  man.  It 
is  common  for  the  passengers  also  to  throw  each  a  stone  or  brick  near  the  spot, 
so  that  in  the  course  of  a  little  time  a  pile  equal  to  a  good  wagon-load  is  col- 
lected. The  sight  of  these  flags  and  piles  of  stones  imparts  a  certain  melan- 
choly, not  perhaps,  altogether  void  of  apprehension." — Oriental  Field  Sports, 
vol.  ii. 

83 


210  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 

the  traveller,  that  in  tliat  very  spot  the  tiger  had  made  some 
human  creature  his  victim.  It  was,  therefore,  with  much 
pleasure  that  they  arrived  at  sunset  in  a  safe  and  lovely 
glen,  and  encamped  under  one  of  those  holy  trees,  whose 
smooth  columns  and  spreading  roofs  seem  to  destine  them 
for  natural  temples  of  religion.  Beneath  this  spacious  shade, 
some  pious  hands  had  erected  a  row  of  pillars  ornamented 
with  the  most  beautiful  porcelain,"*  which  now  supplied  the 
use  of  mirrors  to  the  young  maidens,  as  they  adjusted  their 
hair  in  descending  from  the  palankeens.  Here,  while,  as 
usual,  the  Princess  sat  listening  anxiously,  with  Fapladeen 
in  one  of  his  loftiest  moods  of  criticism  by  her  side,  the  young 
Poet,  leaning  against  a  branch  of  the  tree,  thus  continued  his 
story : — 


^  "The  Ficus  Indica  is  called  the  Pagod-Tree  and  Tree  of  Councils;  the 
first,  from  the  idols  placed  under  its  shade ;  the  second,  because  meetings  were 
held  imder  its  cool  branches.  In  some  places  it  is  believed  to  be  the  haunt  of 
spectres,  as  the  ancient  spreading  oaks  of  Wales  have  been  of  fairies ;  in  others 
are  erected  beneath  the  shade  pillars  of  stone  or  posts,  elegantly  carved,  and 
Drnamented  with  the  most  beautiful  porcelain  P:  supply  the  use  of  mirrors  "-— 
Fe'inauU 


THE    F  I  K  E  -  W  0  R  S  II  I  P  P  E  R  S.  211 


The  morn  hath  risen  clear  and  calm, 

And  o'er  the  Green  Sea''  palely  shineSj 
Revealing  Bahrein's"  groves  of  palm, 
And  lighting  Kiskma's''  amber  vines. 
Fresh  smell  the  shores  of  Araby, 
While  breezes  from  the  Indian  Sea 
Blow  round  Selama's*'  sainted  cape, 

And  curl  the  shining  flood  beneath, — 
Whose  waves  are  rich  with  many  a  grape, 

And  cocoa-nut  and  flowery  wreath, 
Which  pious  seamen,  as  they  passed, 
Had  toward  that  holy  headland  cast — 
Oblations  to  the  Genii  there 
For  gentle  skies  and  breezes  fair ! 
The  nightingale  now  bends  her  flight'' 
From  the  high  trees,  where  all  the  night 


fi  The  Persian  Gulf. — "To  dive  for  pearls  in  the  Green  Sea,  or  Persian- 
Gulf." — Sir  W.  Jones. 

b  Islands  in  the  Gulf. 

'^  Or  Selemeh,  the  genuine  name  of  the  headland  at  the  entrance  of  tho 
Gulf,  commonly  called  Cape  Musseldom.  "The  Indians,  when  they  pass  the 
promontory,  throw  cocoa-nuts,  fruits,  or  flowers  into  the  sea,  to  secure  a  propi- 
tious voj^age." — 3Ioria: 

^  «  The  nightingale  sings  fi-om  thr  pomegranate-groves  in  the  day-time,  anil 
from  the  loftiest  trees  at  nigiit." — Russtl's  Aleppo. 


212  LALLA    KOOKII. 


She  sung  so  sweet  with  none  to  hsten ; 
And  hides  her  from  the  morning  star 

Where  thickets  of  pomegranate  ghsten 
In  the  clear  dawn, — bespangled  o'er 

With  dew,  whose  night- drops  would  not  stam 
The  best  and  brightest  scimitar"*' 
That  ever  youthful  Sultan  wore 

On  the  first  morning  of  his  reign. 

And  see — the  Sun  himself! — on  wings 
Of  glory  up  the  East  he  springs. 
Ano;el  of  Lip'ht !  who,  from  the  time 
Those  heavens  began  their  march  sublime, 
Hath  first  of  all  the  starry  choir 
Trod  in  his  Maimer's  steps  of  fire ! 

Where  are  the  da}s,  thou  wondrous  sphere. 
When  Iran,  like  a  sunflower,  turned 
To  meet  that  eye  where'er  it  burned? 

When  from  the  banks  of  Bendemeer 
To  the  nut-groves  of  Samarcand, 
Thy  temples  flamed  o'er  all  the  land? 
Where  are  they?  ask  the  shades  of  them 

Who,  on  Cadessia's^  bloody  plains, 

^  In  speaking  of  the  climate  of  Shiraz,  Francldin  sa)^s,  "The  dew  is  of  sucn 
a  pure  nature,  that  if  the  brightest  scimitar  should  be  exposed  to  it  all  night,  it 
would  not  receive  the  least  rust." 

^  The  place  where  the  Persians  were  finally  defeated  l>v  the  Arabs,  and  their 
ancient  monarchy  destroyed. 


THE    FIRE- WORSHIPPERS.  213 

Saw  fierce  invaders  pluck  tlie  gem 
From  Iran's  broken  diadem, 

And  bind  her  ancient  faith  in  chains: — 
Ask  the  poor  exile,  cast  alone 
On  foreign  shores,  unloved,  unknown, 
Beyond  the  Caspian's  Iron  Gates,'' 

Or  on  the  snowy  Mossian  mountains, 
Far  from  his  beauteous  land  of  dates, 

Her  jasmme  bowers  and  sunny  fountains: 
Yet  happier  so  than  if  he  trod 
His  own  beloved,  but  blighted,  sod, 
Beneath  a  despot  stranger's  nod! — 
0,  he  would  rather  houseless  roam 

Where  Freedom  and  his  God  may  lead, 
Than  be  the  sleekest  slave  at  home 

That  crouches  to  the  conqueror's  creed ! 

Is  Iran's  pride  then  gone  for  ever. 

Quenched  with  the  flame  in  Mithra's  caves? — 

No — she  has  sons,  that  never — never — 
"Will  stoop  to  be  the  Moslem's  slaves. 
While  heaven  has  light  or  earth  has  graves  ; — 

Spirits  of  fire,  that  brood  not  long. 

But  flash  resentment  back  for  wrong ; 


a  Dcrbcni — "Les  Turcs  appcllent  cette  villc  Demir  Capi,  Porte  de  iei 
ce  sont  les  Caspiae  Porta)  des  anciens." — D^IIerbdot, 


214  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 

And  hearts  v.here,  slow  but  deep,  the  seeds 

Of  vengeance  ripen  into  deeds, 

Till,  in  some  treacherous  hour  of  calm, 

They  burst,  like  Zeilan's  giant  palm,^ 

Whose  buds  fly  open  with  a  sound 

That  shakes  the  pigmy  forests  round !       • 

Yes,  Emir  !  he,  who  scaled  that  tower. 

And,  had  he  reached  thy  slumbering  breast, 

Had  taught  thee,  in  a  Gheber's  power 
How  safe  ev'n  tyrant  heads  may  rest — 

Is  one  of  many,  brave  as  he. 

Who  loathe  thy  haughty  race  and  thee  ; 

Who,  though  they  know  the  strife  is  vain, 

Who,  though  they  know  the  riven  chain 

Snaps  but  to  enter  in  the  heart 

Of  him  Avho  rends  its  links  apart, 

Yet  dare  the  issue, — blessed  to  be 

Ev'n  for  one  bleeding  moment  free, 

And  die  in  pangs  of  liberty ! 

Thou  know'st  them  well — 'tis  some  moons  since, 
Thy  turbaned  troops  and  blood-red  flags, 


^  The  Talpot  or  Talipot-tree.  "  This  beautiful  palm-tree,  which  grows 
m  the  heart  of  the  forests,  may  be  classed  among  the  loftiest  trees,  and 
becomes  still  higher  when  on  the  point  of  bursting  forth  from  its  leafy 
summit.  The  sheath  which  then  envelopes  the  flower  is  very  large,  and, 
when  it  bursts,  makes  an  explosion  like  the  report  of  a  cannon." — 
Thunbe7-g. 


THE    FIRE- WORSHIPPER  a.  215 


Thou  satrap  of  a  bigot  Prince, 

Have  swarmed  among  these  Green  Sea  crags. 
Yet  here,  ev'n  here,  a  sacred  band, 
Ay,  in  the  portal  of  that  land 
Thou,  Arab,  dar'st  to  call  thy  own, 
Their  spears  across  thy  path  have  thrown  ; 
Here — ere  the  winds  half  winged  thee  o'er — 
Rebellion  braved  thee  from  the  shore. 
Rebellion !  foul,  dishonouring  word. 

Whose  wrongful  blight  so  oft  has  stained 
The  holiest  cause  that  tongue  or  sword 

Of  mortal  ever  lost  or  gained. 
How  many  a  spirit,  born  to  bless, 

Hath  sunk  beneath  that  withering  name, 
Whom  but  a  day's,  an  hour's  success 

Had  wafted  to  eternal  fame ! 
As  exhalations,  when  they  burst 
From  the  warm  earth,  if  chilled  at  firsf., 
If  checked  in  soaring  from  the  plain, 
Darken  to  fogs  and  sink  again ; — ■ 
But,  if  they  once  triumphant  spread 
Their  wings  above  the  mountain-head, 
Become  enthroned  in  upper  air, 
And  turn  to  sunbright  glories  there ! 

And  who  is  he,  tliat  wields  the  might 
Of  Freedom  on  the  Green  Sea  brink, 


210  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 


Before  whose  sabre's  dazzlingf  lifflit,* 

The  eyes  of  Yemen's  warriors  wink? 
Who  comes,  embowered  in  tlie  spears 
Of  Kerman's  hardy  mountaineers  ? — 
Those  mountaineers  that,  truest,  last, 

Chng  to  their  country's  ancient  rites. 
As  if  that  God,  whose  eyehds  cast 

Their  closing  gleam  on  Iran's  heights, 
Among  her  snowy  mountains  threw 
The  last  light  of  his  worship  too  ! 

'Tis  Hafed — name  of  fear,  whose  sound 
Chills  like  the  muttering  of  a  charm ! — 
Shout  but  that  awful  name  around, 

And  palsy  shakes  the  manliest  arm, 
'Tis  Hated,  most  accursed  and  dire 
(So  ranked  by  Moslem  hate  and  ire) 
Of  all  the  rebel  Sons  of  Fire ; 
Of  whose  malign,  tremendous  pow.'r 
The  Arabs,  at  their  mid-watch  hour. 
Such  tales  of  fearful  wonder  tell, 
That  each  affrighted  sentinel 
Pulls  down  his  cowl  upon  his  eves. 
Lest  Hafed  in  the  midst  should  rise ' 


a  «  When  the  bright  cimitars  make  the  63-03  of  our  heroes  wiiik." — Thi 
Modllakat,  Poem  oj  Arfu. 


THE    F  I  R  E  -  W  0  R  S  II  I  P  P  E  R  S.  217 


A  man,  they  say,  of  monstrous  birth, 
A  mingled  race  of  flame  and  earth, 
Sprung  from  those  old,  enchanted  kings,"* 

Who  in  their  fairy  helms,  of  yore, 
A  feather  from  the  mystic  wings 

Of  the  Simoorgh  resistless  wore ; 
And  gifted  by  the  Fiends  of  Fire, 
"Who  groaned  to  see  their  shrines  expire, 
With  charms  that,  all  in  vain  withstood, 
W^ould  drown  the  Koran's  light  in  blood ! 

Such  were  the  tales  that  won  belief, 

And  such  the  colouring  Fancy  gave 
,     To  a  young,  warm,  and  dauntless  Chief, — 

One  who,  no  more  than  mortal  brave, 
Fought  for  the  land  his  soul  adored. 

For  happy  homes  and  altars  free, — ■ 
His  only  tahsman,  the  sword. 

His  only  spell-word,  Liberty  ! 
One  of  th  t  ancient  hero  line, 
AlonGf  whose  o^lorious  current  shine 
Names  that  have  sanctified  their  blood  ; 
As  Lebanon's  small  mountain  flood 

«  Tahmnras,  and  other  ancient  Kings  of  Persia;  whose  adventures  in  Fairy- 
land among  the  Peris  and  Dives  may  be  found  in  Richardson's  curious  Disserta 
tion.  The  griffin  Simoorgh,  they  say,  took  some  feathers  from  her  breast  for 
Tahmuras,  with  which  he  adorned  his  hehnet,  and  transmitted  tlicm  afterwards 
to  his  descendants. 

T 


2iS  LALLA    ROOK  11. 


Is  rendered  holy  by  the  ranks 
Of  sainted  cedars  on  its  banks." 
'Twas  not  for  him  to  crouch  the  knee* 
Tamely  to  Moslem  tyranny  ; 
'Twas  not  for  him,  whose  soul  was  cast 
In  the  bright  mould  of  ages  past, 
Whose  melancholy  spirit,  fed 
With  all  the  glories  of  the  dead, 
Though  framed  for  Iran's  happiest  years, 
Was  born  among  her  chains  and  tears ! — 
'Twas  not  for  him  to  swell  the  crowd 
Of  slavish  heads,  that  shrinking  bowed 
Before  the  Moslem,  as  he  passed, 
Like  shrubs  beneath  the  poison-blast — 
No — far  he  fled — indignant  fled 

The  pageant  of  his  country's  shame ; 
While  every  tear  her  children  shed 

Fell  on  his  soul  like  drops  of  flame , 
And,  as  a  lover  hails  the  dawn 

Of  a  first  smile,  so  welcomed  he 


a  This  rivulet,  says  Dandini,  is  called  the  Holy  River  from  the  "  cedar 
saints"  among  which  it  rises. 

In  the  Le'Jres  Edifiantes,  there  is  a  different  cause  assigned  for  its  name  of 
Holy.  « In  these  are  deep  caverns,  which  formerly  served  as  so  many  cells  fc 
a  great  number  of  recluses,  who  had  chosen  these  retreats  as  the  only  witnesses 
upon  earth  of  the  severity  of  their  penance.  The  tears  of  these  pious  peni- 
lents  gave  the  river  of  whicn  we  have  just  treated  the  name  of  the  Holy  River" 
•—Sec  Chateaubriand' s  Beauties  of  Christianity. 


THE    F  I  R  E  -  W  0  R  S  H  I  P  P  E  K  S.  219 


The  sparkle  of  the  first  sword  drawn 
For  vengeance  and  for  hberty  ' 

But  vain  was  valour — vain  the  flov/er 
Of  Kerman,  in  that  deathful  hour, 
Against  Al  Hassan's  \Yhelming  power. 
In  vain  they  met  him,  helm  to  helm, 
Upon  the  threshold  of  that  realm 
He  came  in  bigot  pomp  to  sway, 
And  with  their  corpses  blocked  his  way — 
In  vain — for  every  lance  they  raised. 
Thousands  around  the  conqueror  blazed  ; 
For  every  arm  that  lined  their  shore, 
JNIyriads  of  slaves  Avere  wafted  o'er, — 
A  bloody,  bold,  and  countless  crowd. 
Before  whose  swarm  as  fast  they  bowed 
As  dates  beneath  the  locust  cloud. 

There  stood — but  one  short  league  away 
From  old  Harmozia's  sultry  bay — 
A  rocky  mountain,  o'er  the  Sea 
Of  Oman  beetling  awfully  ;" 


a  Tliis  mountain  is  my  own  creation,  as  the  "  stupendous  chnin"  of  which 
I  suppose  it  a  link,  does  not  extend  quite  so  far  as  tlie  shores  of  the  Persian 
Gulf.  «  This  long  and  lofty  range  of  mountains  formerly  divided  Media  from 
Assyria,  and  now  forms  the  boundary  of  the  Persian  and  Turkish  empires.  It 
runs  parallel  with  the  River  Tigris  and  Persian  Gulf,  and  almost  disappearing 
ill  the  vicinity  of  Gomberoon,  (Harmozia,)  seems  once  more  to  rise  ia  the 


220  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 

A  last  and  solitary  link 

Of  those  stupendous  chains  that  reach 
From  the  broad  Caspian's  reedy  brink 

Down  winding  to  the  Green  Sea  beach. 
Around  its  base  the  bare  rocks  stood, 
Like  naked  giants,  in  the  flood, 

As  if  to  guard  the  Gulf  across  ; 
While,  on  its  peak,  that  braved  tlrfe  sky, 
A  ruined  Temple  towered,  so  high 

That  oft  the  sleeping  albatross  ^ 
Struck  the  wild  ruins  with  her  wing, 
And  from  her  cloud-rocked  slumbering 
Started — to  find  man's  dwelling  there 
In  her  own  silent  fields  of  air ! 
Beneath,  terrific  caverns  gave 
Dark  welcome  to  each  stormy  wave 
That  dashed,  like  midnight  revellers,  in ; — 
And  such  the  strange,  mysterious  din 
At  times  throughout  those  caverns  rolled, — 
And  such  the  fearful  wonders  told. 
Of  restless  sprites  imprisoned  there. 
That  bold  were  Moslem,  who  would  dare, 


Bouthern  districts  of  Kerman,  and  following  an  easterly  course  tlirough  the  centre 
of  Meckraun  and  Balouchistan,  is  entirely  lost  in  the  deserts  of  Shide." — Kin- 
nicr's  Persian  Empire. 

a  These  birds  sleep  in  the  air.     They  are  most  common  about  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope. 


THE    F  IRE-VVO  RSHI  PPE  RS.  22J 

At  twilight  hour,  to  steer  his  skiff 
Beneath  the  Gheber's  lonely  cliflT." 

On  the  land  side,  whose  towers  sublime, 
That  seemed  above  the  grasp  of  Time, 
Were  severed  from  the  haunts  of  men 
By  a  wide,  deep,  and  wizard  glen, 
So  fathomless,  so  full  of  gloom, 

No  eye  could  pierce  the  void  between  : 
It  seemed  a  place  where  Gholes  might  come 
With  their  foul  banquets  from  the  tomb, 

And  in  its  caverns  feed  unseen. 
Like  distant  thunder,  from  below. 

The  sound  of  many  torrents  ^ame, 
Too  deep  for  eye  or  ear  to  know 
If  'twere  the  sea's  imprisoned  flow. 

Or  floods  of  ever-restless  flame. 
For,  each  ravine,  each  rocky  spire 
Of' that  vast  mountain  stood  on  fire  ;^ 
And,  though  for  ever  past  the  days 
When  God  was  worshipped  in  the  blaze 

a  There  is  an  extraordinary  hill  in  this  neighbourhood,  called  Kone  Gubr, 
or  the  Guebre's  mountain.  It  rises  in  the  form  of  a  lofty  cupola,  and  on  the 
summit  of  it,  they  say,  are  the  remains  of  an  Atush  Kudu  or  Fire  Temple. 
It  is  supcrstitiously  held  to  be  the  residence  of  Dceves  or  Sprites,  and  many 
marvellous  stories  are  recounted  of  the  injury  and  witchcraft  suflered  by 
those  who  essayed  in  former  days  to  ascend  or  explore  it." — Poltin^eri 
Beloochistan. 

°  The  Ghcbers  generally  build  their  temples  over  subterraneous  fires. 

T  2 


222  I.  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 


That  from  its  lofty  altar  shone, — 

Though  fled  the  priests,  the  votaries  gone, 

Still  did  the  mighty  flame  burn  on,^ 

Through  chance  and  change,  through  good  and  ill, 

Like  its  own  God's  eternal  will, 

Deep,  constant,  bright,  unquenchable ! 


Thither  the  vanquished  Hafed  led 

His  little  army's  last  remains ; — ■ 
"Welcome,  terrific  glen!"  he  said; 
"Thy  gloom,  that  Eblis'  self  might  dread, 

"Is  Heaven  to  him  who  flies  from  chains!" 
O'er  a  dark,  narrow  bridge-way,  known 
To  him  and  to  his  Chiefs  alone, 
They  crossed  the  chasm  and  gained  the  towers, — 
"  This  home,"  he  cried,  "  at  least  is  ours  ; — 
"  Here  we  may  bleed,  unmocked  by  hymns 

"  Of  Moslem  triumph  o'er  our  head  ; 
"Here  we  may  fall,  nor  leave  our  limbs 

"  To  quiver  to  the  Moslem's  tread. 


«  "  At  the  city  of  Yezd,  in  Persia,  which  is  distinguished  hy  the  appellation 
of  the  Daiub  Abadut,  or  Seat  of  Religion,  the  Giiehres  are  permitted  to  have  an 
Atush  Kudu  or  Fire  Temple  (which,  they  assert,  has  had  the  sacred  fire  in  it 
since  the  days  of  Zoroaster)  in  their  own  compartment  of  the  city ;  but  for  this 
indulgence  they  are  indebted  to  the  avarice,  not  the  tolerance  of  the  Persian 
government,  which  taxes  them  at  twenty-five  rupees  each  man." — PotL»is.er'i 
Celoochistan. 


THE    FIRE- WORSHIPPERS.  223 


'<  Stretched  on  this  rock,  while  vultures'  beakf 
<' Are  whetted  on  our  yet  warm  cheeks, 
"  Here — happy  that  no  tyrant's  eye 
"Gloats  on  our  torments — we  may  die  !" — 

'Twas  night  when  to  those  towers  they  came, 

And  gloomily  the  fitful  flame, 

That  from  the  ruined  altar  broke. 

Glared  on  his  features,  as  he  spoke  : — 

"  'Tis  o'er — what  men  could  do,  we've  done 

"If  Iran  will  look  tamely  on, 

"And  see  her  priests,  her  warriors  driven 

"Before  a  sensual  bigot's  nod, 
"A  wretch  who  shrines  his  lusts  in  heaven, 

"  And  makes  a  pander  of  his  God  ; 
"  If  her  proud  sons,  her  high-born  souls, 

"Men,  in  whose  veins — 0  last  disgrace! — 
"The  blood  of  Zal  and  Rustam'"'  rolls, — 

"  If  they  will  court  this  upstart  race, 
"And  turn  from  INIithra's  ancient  ray, 
"To  kneel  at  shrines  of  yesterday  ; 
"  If  they  loill  crouch  to  Iran's  foes, 

"Why,  let  them — till  the  land's  despair 
"  Cries  out  to  Heaven,  and  bondage  grows 

"  Too  vile  for  ev'n  the  vile  to  bear ! 

«  Ancient  heroes  of  Persia.     "Anion?  the  Gucbres  there  are  some,  who 
boast  their  descent  from  Riistam." — S'.ephcns's  Persia. 


224  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H, 


<'  Till  shame  at  last,  long  liidden,  burns 
"  Their  inmost  core,  and  conscience  turns 
<'Each  coward  tear  the  slave  lets  fall 
"Back  on  his  heart  in  drops  of  gall. 
"  But  here^  at  least,  are  arms  unchained, 
"  And  souls  that  thraldom  never  stained  ! — 

"  This  spot,  at  least,  no  foot  of  slave 
"  Or  satrap  ever  yet  profaned  ; 

"  And  though  but  few — though  fast  the  wave 
"  Of  life  is  ebbing  from  our  veins, 
"  Enoudi  for  veno;eance  still  remains. 
<■<■  As  panthers,  after  set  of  sun, 
<'  Rush  from  the  roots  of  Lebanon 
"  Across  the  dark-sea  robber's  way,"" 
"  We'll  bound  upon  our  startled  prey  ; 
"  And  when  some  hearts  that  proudest  swell 
"  Have  felt  our  falchion's  last  farewell ; 
"  When  Hope's  expiring  throb  is  o'er, 
"  And  ev'n  Despair  can  prompt  no  more, 
"  This  spot  shall  be  the  sacred  grave 
"  Of  the  last  few  who,  vainly  brave, 
"  Die  for  the  land  they  cannot  save  !" 

His  Chiefs  stood  round — each  shining  blade 
Upon  the  broken  altar  laid — 

a  See  Riissc-rs  account  of  the  panther's  altackuig  travellers  in  the  night  on 
the  sea-shore  about  the  roots  of  Lebanon. 


THE    F  1  R  E  -  W  O  R  S  H  1  P  P  E  a  S. 


And  though  so  wild  and  desolate 

Those  courts,  where  once  the  Mighty  sate 

Nor  longer  on  those  mouldering  tov/ers 

Was  seen  the  feast  of  fruits  and  flowers, 

With  which  of  old  the  Magi  fed 

The  wandering  Spirits  of  their  Dead ;  '^ 

Though  neither  priest  nor  rites  were  there, 

Nor  charmed  leaf  of  pure  pomegranate ;  *" 
Nor  hymn,  nor  censer's  fragrant  air, 

Nor  symbol  of  their  worshipped  planet ;  "^ 
Yet  the  same  God  that  heard  their  sires 
Heard  them,  while  on  that  altar's  ilres 
They  swore ''  the  latest,  holiest  deed 
Of  the  few  hearts,  slill  left  to  bleed. 
Should  be,  in  Iran's  injured  name. 
To  die  upon  that  Mount  of  Flame — 


'">  "Among  othor  ceremonips,  the  Magi  used  to  place  upon  the  tops  of  high 
towers  various  kinds  of  rich  viands,  upon  which  it  was  supposed  the  Peris  and 
the  spirits  of  their  departed  heroes  regaled  themselves." — llicharchon. 

b  In  the  ceremonies  of  the  Ghebers  round  their  Fire,  as  described  by  Lord, 
"  the  Daroo,"  he  says,  "  giveth  them  water  to  drink,  and  a  pomegranate  leaf  to 
chew  in  the  mouth,  to  cleanse  them  from  inward  uncleanness." 

■=  "Early  in  the  morning,  they  (the  Parsecs  or  Ghcbers  at  Oulain)  go  in 
crowds  to  pay  their  devotions  to  the  Sun,  to  whom  upon  all  the  altars  there  are 
spheres  consecrated,  made  by  magic,  resembling  the  circles  of  the  sun,  and  when 
the  sun  rises,  these  orbs  seem  to  be  inflamed,  and  to  turn  round  witli  a  great 
noise.  They  have  every  one  a  censer  in  their  hands,  and  ofler  incense  to  the 
Sim." — Rabbi  Eenjuiniu. 

''  "Nul  d'entre  eux  oseroit  se  parjurcr,  quand  il  a  pris  X  temoin  cct  element 
terrible  ct  vengeur." — Enctjdopcdie  Franwisc. 


220  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  O  K  11. 

The  last  of  all  her  patriot  line, 
Before  her  last  untrampled  Shrine ! 

Brave,  suffering  souls !  they  little  knew 
How  many  a  tear  their  nijuries  drew 
From  one  meek  maid,  one  gentle  foe, 
Whom  love  first  touched  with  others'  woe — • 
Whose  life,  as  free  from  thought  as  sin, 
Slept  like  a  lake,  till  Love  threw  in 
His  talisman,  and  woke  the  tide, 
And  spread  its  trembling  circles  wide. 
Once,  Emir  !  thy  unheeding  child. 
Mid  all  this  havoc,  bloomed  and  smiled, — 
Tranquil  as  on  some  battle-plain 

The  Persian  lily  shines  and  towers,'' 
Before  the  combat's  reddening  stain 

Hath  fallen  upon  her  golden  flowers. 
Light-hearted  maid,  unawed,  unmoved. 
While  Heaven  but  spared  the  sire  she  loved. 
Once  at  thy  evening  tales  of  blood 
Unlistening  and  aloof  she  stood 
And  oft,  when  thou  hast  paced  along 

Thy  Harara  halls  with  furious  heat. 


a  "A  vivid  verdure  succeeds  the  autumnal  rains,  and  the  ploughed  fields 
are  covered  with  the  Persian  lily,  of  a  resplendent  yellow  colour." — Russer» 
Aleppo. 


THE    F  I  R  F.  -  W  0  R  8  II I  P  P  E  R  S,  227 

Hast  thou  not  cursed  her  cheerful  song, 

That  came  across  thee,  cahn  and  sweet, 
Like  lutes  of  angels,  touched  so  near 
Hell's  confines,  that  the  damned  can  hear ! 


Far  other  feelings  Love  hath  brought — 

Her  soul  all  flame,  her  brow  all  sadness. 
She  now  has  but  the  one  dear  thought. 

And  thinks  that  o'er,  almost  to  madness! 
Oft  doth  her  sinking  heart  recall 
His  words — "for  my  sake  weep  for  all ;" 
And  bitterly,  as  day  on  day 

Of  rebel  carnage  fast  succeeds. 
She  weeps  a  lover  snatched  away 

In  every  Gheber  wretch  that  bleeds. 
There's  not  a  sabre  meets  her  eye, 

But  with  his  life-blood  seems  to  swim ; 
There's  not  an  arrow  wings  the  sky, 

But  fancy  turns  its  point  to  him. 
No  more  she  brings  with  footsteps  light 
Al  Hassan's  falchion  for  the  fight ; 
And — Lad  he  looked  with  clearer  sight, 
Had  noi  the  mists,  that  ever  rise 
From  a  foul  spirit,  dimmed  his  eyes — 
He  would  have  marked  her  shuddering  frame, 
When  from  the  field  of  blood  he  came. 


223  li  A  L,  L  A    R  O  O  K  Jl. 


The  faltering'  speech — the  look  estranged — 
Voice,  step,  and  life,  and  beauty  changed — 
He  would  have  marked  all  this,  and  known 
Such  change  is  wrought  by  Love  alone. 

Ah !  not  the  Love  that  should  have  blessed 
So  young,  so  innocent  a  breast ; 
Not  the  pure,  open,  prosperous  Love, 
That,  pledged  on  earth  and  sealed  above, 
Grows  in  the  world's  approving  eyes, 

In  friendship's  smiles  and  home's  caress, 
Collecting  all  the  heart's  sweet  ties 

Lito  one  knot  of  happiness ! 
No,  HiNDA,  no, — thy  fatal  fiame 
Is  nursed  in  silence,  sorrow,  shame ; — 

A  passion,  without  hope  or  pleasure. 
In  thy  soul's  darkness  buried  deep, 

It  lies,  like  some  ill-gotten  treasure, — 
Some  idol,  without  shrine  or  name, 
O'er  which  its  pale-eyed  votaries  keep 
Unholy  watch,  while  others  sleep. 

Seven  nights  have  darkened  Oman's  ScEv 
Since  last,  beneath  the  moonlight  ray. 

She  saw  his  light  oar  rapidly 

Hurry  her  Gheber's  bark  away, — 


MESfl®  Jk. 


■^nd  watch,  and  look  along  the  deep 

For  Mm  whose   smiles  first  made  hei   vvt^c} 


THE    F  I  R  E  -  \V  O  R  S  H  I  P  P  E  R  S.  2*2S 

And  still  she  goes,  at  midnight  hour, 

To  weep  alone  in  that  high  bower, 

And  watch,  and  look  along  the  deep 

For  him  wl  :se  smiles  first  made  her  weep  : — 

But  watching,  weeping,  all  was  A'ain ; 

She  never  saw  his  bark  a2:ain. 

The  owlet's  solitary  cry. 

The  night-hawk,  flitting  darkly  by, 

And  oft  the  hateful  caiTion  bird, 
Heavily  flapping  his  clogged  w^ing. 
Which  reeked  with  that  day's  banqueting — 

Was  all  she  saw,  was  all  she  heard. 

'Tis  the  eighth  morn — Al  Hassan's  brow 

Is  brightened  with  unusual  joy — 
What  mighty  mischief  glads  him  now, 

W^ho  never  smiles  but  to  destroy  ? 
The  sparkle  upon  Herkend's  Sea, 
When  tossed  at  midnight  furiously,'* 
'  Tells  not  of  wreck  and  ruin  nigh, 
j\Iore  surely  than  that  smiling  eye ! 
"Up,  daughter,  up — the  Kerna's"  breath 
"Has  blown  a  blast  would  waken  death, 

a  "It  is  observed,  with  respect  to  the  Sea  of  Herkend,  that  when  it  is  tossed 
by  tempestuous  winds,  it  sparkles  hkc  fire." — Travels  of  Two  Mohammedans. 

t  A  kind  of  trumpet ; — it  «  was  that  used  by  Tamerlane,  the  sound  of  which 
is  described  as  uncommonly  dreadful,  and  so  loud  as  to  be  heard  at  the  distance 
of  several  miles." — Richardson. 

U 


230  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  O  K  H. 

"And  yet  thou  sleep'st — up,  child,  and  see 
"  This  blessed  day  for  Heaven  and  me, 
"A  day  more  rich  in  Pagan  blood 
<'  Than  ever  flashed  o'er  Oman's  flood. 
"Before  another  dawn  shall  shine, 
"His  head — heart — limbs  Avill  all  be  mine  ; 
"  This  very  night  his  blood  shall  steep 
"These  hands  all  over  ere  I  sleep  !" — 


ti His  blood!"  she  faintly  screamed — her  mind 
Still  singling  one  from  all  mankind. — 
"Yes — spite  of  his  ravines  and  towers, 
"  Hafed,  my  child,  this  night  is  ours. 
"  Thanks  to  all-conquering  treachery, 

"  Without  whose  aid  the  links  accursed 
"  That  bind  these  impious  slaves,  would  be 

"  Too  strong  for  Alla's  self  to  burst ! 
"  That  rebel  fiend,  whose  blade  has  spread 
"My  path  with  piles  of  Moslem  dead, 
"Whose  baffling  spells  had  almost  driven 
"  Back  from  their  course  the  Swords  of  Heaven, 
"  This  night,  with  all  his  band,  shall  know 
"  How  deep  an  Arab's  steel  can  go, 
"  When  God  and  Vengeance  speed  the  blow. 
"  And — Prophet !  by  that  holy  w^reath 


THE    F  I  R  E  -  W  0  R  S  H  I  P  P  E  K  S.  231 

«  Thou  wor'st  on  Ohod's  field  of  death," 
"  I  swear,  for  every  sob  that  parts 
"In  anguish  from  these  heathen  hearts, 
"A  gem  from  Persia's  plundered  mines 
"  Shall  glitter  on  thy  Shrine  of  Shrines. 
"  But,  ha ! — she  sinks — that  look  so  wild — 
"  Those  livid  lips — my  child,  my  child, 
"This  life  of  blood  befits  not  thee, 
"  And  tliou  must  back  to  Araby. 

"  Ne'er  had  I  risked  thy  timid  sex 
"In  scenes  that  man  himself  might  dread. 
"Had  I  not  hoped  our  every  tread 

"Would  be  on  prostrate  Persian  necks— 
"  Cursed  race,  they  offer  swords  instead! 
"  But  cheer  thee,  maid, — the  wind  that  now 
"  Is  blowing  o'er  thy  feverish  brow, 
"  To-day  shall  waft  thee  from  the  shore  ; 
"  And,  e'er  a  drop  of  this  night's  gore 
"  Have  time  to  chill  in  yonder  towers, 
"  Thou'lt  see  thy  own  sweet  Arab  bowers !" 

His  bloody  boast  was  all  too  true ; 
There  lurked  one  wretch  among  the  few 


^"Mohammed  had  two  helmets,  an  interior  and  extL-rior  one;  the  lattei 
of  which,  called  Al  Mawashah,  the  fillet,  wreath,  or  wreathed  garland,  he  .wora 
a',  the  battle  «'  Ohod." — Universal  History. 


232  LALLA    ROOKH. 

Whom  Hafed's  eagle  eye  could  count 

Around  him  on  that  Fiery  Mount, — • 

One  miscreant,  who  for  gold  betrayed 

The  pathway  through  the  valley's  shade 

To  those  high  towers,  where  Freedom  stood 

In  her  last  hold  of  flame  and  blood. 

Left  on  the  field  last  dreadful  night, 

When,  sallying  from  their  Sacred  height, 

The  Ghebers  fought  hope's  farewell  fight, 

He  lay — but  died  not  with  the  brave ; 

That  sun,  which  should  have  gilt  his  grave, 

Saw  him  a  traitor  and  a  slave ; — 

And,  while  the  few,  who  thence  returned 

To  their  high  rocky  fortress,  mourned 

For  him  among  the  matchless  dead 

They  left  behind  on  glory's  bed, 

He  lived,  and,  in  the  face  of  morn. 

Laughed  them  and  Faith  and  Heaven  to  scorn. 


0  for  a  tongue  to  curse  the  slave, 
Whose  treason,  like  a  deadly  blight. 

Comes  o'er  the  councils  of  the  brave. 
And  blasts  them  in  their  hour  of  might ! 

May  Life's  unblessed  cup  for  hnn 

Be  drugged  with  treacheries  to  the  brim, — 


THE    FIRE- WOKS  KIPPERS.  233 

With  hopes,  that  but  allure  to  fl}', 

With  joys,  that  vanish  while  he  sips, 
Like  Dead-Sea  fruits,  that  tempt  the  eye. 

But  turn  to  ashes  on  the  lips!* 
His  oountry's  curse,  his  children's  shamej 
Outcast  of  virtue,  peace,  and  fame, 
May  he,  at  last,  with  lips  of  flame 
On  the  parchr'l  desert  thirsting  die, — 
While  lakes,  that  shone  in  mockery  nigh," 
Are  fading  off,  untouched,  untasted. 
Like  the  once  glorious  hopes  he  blasted' 


»  "They  say  that  taprc  aie  apple-trees  upon  the  sides  of  this  sea,  wnich  bear 
very  lovely  fruit,  but  within  are  all  full  of  ashes."' — Thcvenot.  The  same  is 
asserted  of  the  oranges  there ;  v.  Witnian's  Travels  in  Asiatic  Turkey. 

"The  Asphalt  Lake,  known  by  the  name  of  the  Dead  Sea,  is  very  remark- 
able on  account  of  the  consiJeral;le  proportion  of  «alt  which  it  contains.  In 
this  respect  it  surpasses  every  other  known  water  on  the  surface  of  the  earth. 
This  great  proportion  of  bitter-tasted  salts  is  the  reason  why  neither  animal  nor 
plant  can  live  in  this  water.  Klaprolh's  Chemical  Analysis  of  the  Water  of 
the  Dead  Sea,  Annals  of  Philosophy,  January,  1813.  Hassclquist,  however 
doubts  the  truth  of  this  last  assertion,  as  there  are  shell-fish  to  be  found  in  the 
lake. 

Lord  BjTon  has  a  similar  allusion  to  the  fruits  of  the  Dead  Sea,  in  that 
wonderful  display  of  genius,  his  third  Canto  of  Childe  Harold, — magnificent 
beyond  any  thing,  perhaps,  that  even  he  has  ever  written. 

'^  "The  Suhrab  or  Water  of  the  Desert  is  said  to  be  caused  by  the  rarefaction 
ot  the  atmosphere  from  extreme  heat;  and,  which  augments  the  delusion,  it  is 
most  frequent  in  hollows,  where  water  might  be  expected  to  lodge.  I  have  seen 
bushes  and  trees  reflected  in  it,  with  as  much  accuracy  as  though  it  had  been 
the  face  of  a  clear  and  still  lake." — Pottiiiger, 

"As  to  the  unbelievers,  their  works  are  like  a  vapour  in  a  plain,  which  the 
thirsty  traveller  thinketh  to  be  water,  until  when  he  cometh  thereto  he  findetb 
it  to  be  nothing." — Koran,  chap.  24. 

u  9 


234  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 


And,  when  from  earth  his  spirit  fAea. 

Just  Prophei,  let  the  damned-one  dwell 
Full  in  the  sight  of  Paradise, 

Behdding  heaven,  and  feelinfif  heij' 


L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H.  23( 


Lalla  Rookh  had,  the  night  before,  been  visited  by  a 
dream,  which,  in  spite  of  the  impending  fate  of  poor  Hafed. 
made  her  heart  more  than  usually  cheerful  during  the 
morning,  and  gave  her  cheeks  all  the  freshened  animation 
of  a  flower  that  the  Bid-musk  has  just  passed  over.''  She 
fancied  that  she  was  sailing  on  that  Eastern  Ocean,  where 
the  sea-gipsies,  who  live  for  ever  on  the  water,  "^  enjoy  a 
perpetual  summer  in  wandering  from  isle  to  isle,  when  she 
saw  a  small  gilded  bark  approaching  her.  It  was  like  one 
of   those  boats  which    the    Maldivian    islanders    send    adrif;. 


»  «  A  wind  which  prevails  in  February,  called  Bidmusk,  from  a  small  and 
odoriferous  flower  of  that  name." — "  The  wind  which  blows  these  flowers  com- 
monly lasts  till  the  end  of  the  month." — Le  T.rvyn. 

^  "  The  Biajus  are  of  two  races;  the  one  is  settled  on  Borneo,  and  are  a  rude 
but  warlike  and  industrious  nation,  who  reckon  themselves  the  original  possessors 
of  the  island  of  Borneo.  The  other  is  a  species  of  sea-gipsies  or  itinerant  fisher- 
men, who  live  in  small  covered  boats,  and  enjoy  a  perpetual  summer  on  the 
eastern  ocean,  shifting  to  leeward  from  island  to  island,  with  the  variations  of 
the  monsoon.  In  some  of  their  customs  this  singular  race  resemble  the  natives 
of  the  Maldivia  islands.  The  Maldivians  annually  launch  a  small  bark,  loaded 
with  perfumes,  gums,  flowers,  and  odoriferous  wood,  and  turn  it  adrift  at  the 
mercy  of  winds  and  waves,  as  an  ofl^ering  to  the  Spirit  of  the  Winds;  and  some- 
times similar  offerings  are  made  to  the  spirit  whom  they  term  the  King  of  the 
Sea.  In  like  manner  the  Biajus  perform  their  offering  to  the  god  of  evil, 
launching  a  small  bark,  loaded  with  all  the  sins  and  misfortunes  of  the  nation, 
which  are  imagined  to  fall  on  the  unhappy  crew  that  may  be  so  unlucky  as  first 
to  meet  with  it." — Dr.  Lcydcn  on  the  Languages  and  Literature  of  the  Indo. 
Chinese  Nations. 


230  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 

at  the  mercy  of  winds  and  waves,  loaded  with  perfumes, 
flowers,  and  odoriferous  wood,  as  an  offering  to  the  Spirit 
w^hom  the}^  call  King  of  the  Sea.  At  first,  this  little  bark 
appeared  to  be  empty,  but,  on  coming  nearer 

She  had  proceeded  thus  far  in  relating  the  dream  to  her 
Ladies,  when  Feramorz  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  pavilion. 
In  his  presence,  of  course,  every  thing  else  was  forgotten, 
and  the  continuance  of  the  story  was  instantly  requested  by 
all.  Fresh  wood  of  aloes  was  set  to  burn  in  the  cassolets; — 
the  violet  sherbets''  were  hastily  handed  round,  and  after  a 
short  prelude  on  his  lute,  in  the  pathetic  measure  of  Nava,^ 
which  is  always  used  to  express  the  lameniations  of  absent 
lovers,  the  Poet  thus  continued : — 


''  "  The  sweet-scented  violet  is  one  of  the  plants  most  esteemed,  particularly 
for  its  great  use  in  Sorbet,  which  they  make  of  violet  sugar." — Hasselqvist. 

"The  sherbet  they  most  esteem,  and  which  is  drank  by  the  Grand  Signior 
himself,  is  made  of  violets  and  sugar." — Tavernier, 

^  "Last  of  all  she  took  a  guitar,  and  sung  a  pathetic  air  in  the  measure 
failed  Nava,  which  is  alwa3"s  used  to  express  the  lamenttt<ons  of  absent  lovers." 
— Persian  Taks. 


THE    F  I  Jl  E  -  W  0  R  S  H  I  P  P  E  R  S.  23/ 


The  day  is  lowering — stilly  black 
Sleeps  the  grim  wave,  while  heaven's  rack, 
Dispersed  and  wild,  'twixt  earth  and  s]<y 
Hangs  like  a  shattered  canopy. 
There's  not  a  cloud  in  that  blue  plain 

But  tells  of  storm  to  corns  or  past; — 
Here,  flying  loosely  as  the  mane 

Of  a  young  war-horse  in  the  blast; — 
There  rolled  in  masses  dark  and  swelling, 
As  proud  to  be  the  thunder's  dwelling ! 
While  some,  already  burst  and  riven, 
Seem  melting  dowm  the  verge  of  heaven ; 
As  though  the  infant  storm  had  rent 

Th?  mighty  womb  that  gave  him  birtli, 
And,  having  swept  the  firmament, 

Wls  now  in  fierce  career  for  earth. 

On  earth  'twas  yet  all  calm  around, 
A  pulseless  silence,  dread,  profound, 
More  awful  than  the  tempest's  sound. 
The  diver  steered  for  Ormus'  bowers, 
And  moored  his  skiff  till  calmer  hours ; 


2;3S  LALLA    ROOKH. 

The  sea-birds,  ^vith  portentous  screech, 
Flew  fiist  to  land ; — upon  the  beech 
The  pilot  oft  had  paused,  with  glance 
Turned  upward  to  that  wild  expanse : — - 
And  all  was  boding,  drear,  and  dark 
As  her  own  soul,  when  Hinda's  bark 
"Went  slowly  from  the  Persian  shore. — 
No  music  timed  her  parting  oar,'^ 
Nor  friends  upon  the  lessening  strand 
Lingered,  to  wave  the  unseen  hand, 
Or  speak  the  farewell,  heard  no  more  ; — 
But  lone,  unheeded,  from  the  bay 
The  vessel  takes  its  mournful  way, 
Like  some  ill- destined  bark  that  steers 
In  silence  through  the  Gate  of  Tears.'' 

And  where  was  stern  Al  Hassan  then  } 
Could  not  that  saintly  scourge  of  men 
From  bloodshed  and  devotion  spare 
One  minute  for  a  farewell  there  ? 


"■  "  The  Easterns  used  to  set  out  on  their  longer  vo3'ages  with  irusic."— 
Hurmcr. 

t  «  The  Gate  of  Tears,  the  straits  or  passage  into  the  Red  Sea,  commonly 
called  Babelmandel.  It  received  this  name  from  the  old  Arabians,  on  account 
of  the  danger  of  the  navigation,  and  the  number  of  shipwrecks  by  which  it  was 
distinguished  ;  which  induced  them  to  consider  as  dead,  and  to  wear  mournuig 
for  all  who  had  the  boldness  to  hazard  the  passage  through  it  into  the  Ethiopic 
ocean." — Richardson. 


THE    F  I  R  E  -  W  0  R  S  H  I  P  P  E  R  S.  039 

No — close  within,  in  changeful  fits 
Of  cursing  and  of  prayer,  he  sits 
In  savage  loneliness  to  biood 
Upon  the  coming  night  of  blood, — 

With  that  keen,  second  scent  of  death 
By  which  the  vulture  snuffs  his  food 

In  the  siill  warm  and  living  breath !  * 
While  o'er  the  wave  his  weeping  daughter 
Is  wafted  from  these  scenes  of  slaughter, — 
As  a  young  bird  of  Babylon,'' 
Let  loose  to  tell  of  victory  won, 
Flies  home,  with  wing,  ah !  not  unstained 
By  the  red  hands  that  held  her  chained. 


And  does  the  long-left  home  she  seeks 
Lignt  lip  no  gladness  on  her  cheeks  ? 
The  flowers  she  nursed — the  well-known  groves, 
Where  oft  in  dreams  her  spirit  roves — 
Once  more  to  see  her  dear  gazelles 
Come  bounding  with  their  silver  bells  ; 
Her  birds'  new  plumage  to  behold, 
And  the  gay,  gleaming  fishes  count, 


»  '  1  have  been  told  that  whensoever  an  animal  falls  down  dead,  one  ot 
more  vultures,  unseen  before,  instantly  appear." — Pennant. 

^  "  They  fasten  some  writing  to  the  wings  of  a  Bagdat,  or  Babylonian 
pigeon." — Travels  of  certain  Englishmen. 


240  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

She  left,  all  filleted  with  gold, 

Shootmg  around  theh  jasper  fount  ;* 
Her  little  garden  mosque  to  see, 

And  once  again,  at  evening  hour, 
To  tell  her  ruby  rosary,^ 

In  her  own  sweet  acacia  bower, — 
Can  these  delights  that  wait  her  now, 
Call  up  no  sunshine  on  her  brow  ? 
No, — silent,  from  her  train  apart, — 
As  if  ev'n  now  she  felt  at  heart 
The  chill  of  her  approaching  doom, — 
She  sits,  all  lovely  in  her  gloom 
As  a  pale  Angel  of  the  Grave ; 
And  o'er  the  wide,  tempestuous  wave. 
Looks,  with  a  shudder,  to  those  towers. 
Where,  in  a  few  short  awful  hours. 
Blood,  blood,  in  streaming  tides  shall  run, 
Foul  incense  for  to-morrow's  sun  ! 
"  Where  art  thou,  glorious  stranger  !  thou, 
"So  loved,  so  lost,  where  ail  thou  now? 
"  Foe — Gheber — infidel — whate'er 
"Th'  unhallowed  name  thou'rt  doomed  to  bear, 

'<■  "The  Empress  of  Jehan-Guue  used  to  divert  herself  with  feeding  tame  fish 
in  her  canals,  some  of  which  were  many  j'ears  afterwards  known  by  fillets  of 
gold,  which  she  caused  to  be  put  round  them." — Harris. 

^  «Le  Tespih,  qui  est  un  chapelet,  compose  de  99  petites  boules  d'agathe, 
de  jaspe,  d'ambre,  de  corail,  ou  d'autre  matiere  precieuse.  J'en  ai  \u  un 
superbe  au  Seigneur  Jerpos;  il  etoit  de  belles  et  grosses  perles  parfaites  e( 
egales,  estime  trente  mille  piastres." — Toderini. 


THE    F  I  R  E  -  W  0  R  S  H  I  P  P  E  R  S.  241 

"  Still  glorious — still  to  this  fond  heart 
"Dear  as  its  blood,  whate'er  thou  art! 
"Yes — Alla,  dreadfid  Alla !  yes — 
"If  there  be  wrong,  be  crime  in  this, 
"  Let  the  black  waves  that  round  us  roll. 
"Whelm  me  this  instant,  ere  my  soul, 
"  Forgetting  faith — home — father — all — 
"Before. its  earthly  idol  fall, 
"Nor  worship  ev'n  Thyself  above  him — 
"  For,  0,  so  wildly  do  I  love  him, 
"Thy  Paradise  itself  were  dim 
"  And  joyless,  if  not  shared  with  him !" 


Her  hands  were  clasped — Her  eyes  upturned, 

Dropping  their  tears  like  moonlight  rain ; 
And,  though  her  lip,  fond  raver !  burned 

With  words  of  passion,  bold,  profane, 
Yet  was  there  light  around  her  brow, 

A  holiness  in  those  dark  eyes, 
Which  showed, — though  wandering  eartliward 
now, — 

Her  spirit's  home  was  in  the  skies 
Yes — for  a  spirit  pure  as  hers 
Is  always  pure,  ev'n  while  it  errs  ; 
As  sunshine,  broken  in  the  rill, 
Though  turned  astray,  is  sunshine  still  I 

X 


242  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

So  wholly  had  her  mind  forgot 

All  thoughts  but  one,  she  heeded  not 

The  rising  storm — the  wave  that  cast 

A  moment's  midnight^  as  it  passed— 

Nor  heard  the  frequent  shout,  the  tread 

Of  gathering  tumult  o'er  her  head — 

Clashed  swords,  and  tongues  that  seemed  to  vie 

With  the  rude  riot  of  the  sky. 

But,  hark! — that  war-whoop  on  the  deck — 

That  crash,  as  if  each  engine  there, 
Mast,  sails,  and  all,  were  gone  to  WTCck, 

Mid  yells  and  stampings  of  despair ! 
Merciful  Heaven !  what  can  it  be  ? 
'Tis  not  the  storm,  though  fearfully  , 

The  ship  has  shuddered  as  she  rode 
O'er  mountain- waves, — "Forgive  me,  God! 
"Forgive  me" — shrieked  the  maid,  and  knelt 
Trembling  all  over — for  she  felt 
As  if  her  judgment-hour  was  near; 
While  crouching  round,  half  dead  with  fear, 
Her  handmaids  clung,  nor  breathed,  nor  stirred — 
When,  hark ! — a  second  crash — a  third — 
And  now,  as  if  a  bolt  of  thunder 
Had  riven  the  labouring  planks  asunder, 
The  deck  falls  in — what  horrors  then ! 
Blood,  waves,  and  tackle,  swords  and  men 


THE    FIRE- WORSHIPPERS.  043 


Come  mixed  together  through  the  chasm, — 
Some  Avretches  in  their  dying  spasm 
Still  fighting  on — and  some  that  call 
"  For  God  and  Iran  !"  as  they  fall ! 


Whose  was  the  hand  that  turned  away 
The  perils  of  th'  infuriate  fray 
And  snatched  her  breathless  from  beneath 
This  wilderment  of  wTeck  and  death  ? 
She  knew  not — for  a  faintness  came 
Chill  o'er  her,  and  her  sinking  frame 
Amid  the  ruins  of  that  hour 
Lay,  like  a  pale  and  scorched  flower, 
Beneath  the  red  volcano's  shower. 
But,  0 !  the  sights  and  sounds  of  dread 
That  shocked  her  ere  her  senses  fled ! 
The  yawning  deck — the  crowd  that  strove 
Upon  the  tottering  planks  above — 
The  sail,  whose  fragments,  shivering  o'er 
The  stragglers'  heads,  all  dashed  with  gorCj 
Fluttered  like  bloody  flags — the  clash 
Of  sabres,  and  the  lightning's  flash 
Upon  their  blades,  high  tossed  about 
Like  meteor  brands "" — as  if  throughout 
The  elements  one  fury  ran, 

a  The  meteors  that  Pliny  calls  "faces." 


•44  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 


One  general  rage,  that  left  a  doubt 

Which  was  the  fiercer,  Heaven  or  INIan ! 


I 


Once  too — but  no — it  could  not  be — 

'Twas  fancy  all — yet  once  she  thought, 
While  yet  her  fading  eyes  could  see, 

Hiffh  on  the  ruined  deck  she  caught 
A  glimpse  of  that  unearthly  form, 

That  glory  of  her  soul, — ev'n  then, 
Amid  the  ^Yhirl  of  wreck  and  storm. 

Shining  above  his  fellow-men. 
As,  on  some  black  and  troublous  night. 
The  star  of  Egypt,''  whose  proud  light 
Never  hath  beamed  on  those  who  rest 
In  the  White  Islands  of  the  West,'' 
Burns  through  the  storm  with  looks  of  flame 
That  put  Heaven's  cloudier  eyes  to  shame. 
But  no — 'twas  but  the  minute's  dream — 
A  fantasy — and  ere  the  scream 
Had  half-way  passed  her  pallid  lips, 
A  deathlike  swoon,  a  chill  eclipse 
Of  soul  and  sense  its  darkness  spread 
Around  her,  and  she  sunk,  as  dead. 


a  "The  brilliant  Oanopus,  unseen  in  European  climates." — Bwwru 
^  See  Wilfortl's  learned  Essays  on  the  Sacred  Isles  in  the  West 


THE    FIRE-WORSIIIPPEKS.  245 

How  calm^  how  beautiful  comes  on 

The  stilly  hour,  when  storms  are  gone ; 

When  warring  winds  have  died  away, 

And  clouds,  beneath  the  glancing  ray, 

Melt  off,  and  leave  the  land  and  sea 

Sleeping  in  bright  tranquillity, — 

Fresh  as  if  Day  again  were  born, 

Again  upon  the  lap  of  Morn ! 

When  the  light  blossoms,  rudely  torn 
•  And  scattered  at  the  whirlwind's  will, 

Hang  floating  in  the  pure  air  still, 

Filling  it  all  with  precious  balm, 

In  gratitude  for  this  sweet  calm  ; — • 

And  every  drop  the  thunder-showers 

Have  left  upon  the  grass  and  flowers 

Sparkles,  as  'twere  that  lightning-gem  * 

Whose  liquid  flame  is  born  of  them ! 

When,  'stead  of  one  unchanging  breeze, 
There  blow  a  thousand  gentle  airs, 
And  each  a  different  perfume  bears, — 

As  if  the  loveliest  plants  and  trees 

Had  vassal  breezes  of  their  own 

To  watch  and  wait  on  them  alone, 
And  waft  no  other  breath  than  theirs : 

a  A  precious  stone  of  the  Indies,  called  by  the  ancients  Ceraunium,  because 
it  was  supposed  to  be  found  in  places  where  thunder  had  fallen.  Tertullian 
says  it  has  a  glittering  appearance,  as  if  there  had  been  fire  in  it ;  and  the  autuor 
o£  the  Dissertation  in  Harris's  Voyages  supposes  it  to  be  the  opai. 

x2 


246  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  O  K  H, 


When  the  blue  waters  rise  and  fall, 
In  sleepy  sunshine  mantling  all ; 
And  ev'n  that  swell  the  tempest  leaves 
Is  like  the  full  and  silent  heaves 
Of  lovers'  hearts,  when  newly  blessed, 
Too  newly  to  be  quite  at  rest. 

Such  was  the  golden  hour  that  broke 
Upon  the  w^orld,  when  Hinda  woke 
From  her  long  trance,  and  heard  around 
No  motion  but  the  water's  sound 
Rippling  against  the  vessel's  side, 
As  slow  it  mounted  o'er  the  tide. — 
But  where  is  she  ? — her  eyes  are  dark. 
Are  wildered  still — is  this  the  bark. 
The  same,  that  from  Harmozia's  bay 
Bore  her  at  morn — Avhose  bloody  way 
The  sea-dog  tracked  ? — no — strange  and  ne\T 
Is  all  that  meets  her  wondering  view. 
Upon  a  galliot's  deck  she  lies, 

Beneath  no  rich  pavilion's  shade, — 
No  plumes  to  fan  her  sleeping  eyes, 

Nor  jasmine  on  her  pillow  laid. 
But  tlie  rude  litter,  roughly  spread 
With  war-cloaks,  is  her  homely  bed, 
And  shawl  and  sash,  on  javelins  hung, 
For  awnmg  o'er  her  head  are  flung. 


THE    FIRE-WORSHIPPERS.  247 

Shuddering  she  looked  around — there  lay 

A  group  of  warriors  in  the  sun, 
Resting  their  limbs,  as  for  that  day 

Their  ministry  of  death  were  done. 
Some  gazing  on  the  drows}-  sea, 
Lost  in  unconscious  reverie ; 
And  some,  who  seemed  but  ill  to  brook    . 
That  sluggish  calm,  with  many  a  look 
To  the  slack  sail  impatient  cast, 
As  loose  it  flao^Gfed  around  the  mast. 

Blessed  Alla  !  who  shall  save  her  now  ? 

There's  not  in  all  that  warrior  band 
One  Arab  sword,  one  turbaned  brow 

From  her  own  Faithful  Moslem  land. 
Their  garb — the  leathern  belt  "^  that  wraps 

Each  yellow  vest'' — that  rebel  hue — 
The  Tartar  fleece  upon  their  caps " — 

Yes — yes — her  fears  are  all  too  true, 
And  Heaven  hath,  in  this  dreadful  hour, 
Abandoned  her  to  Hafed's  power ; — 
Hafed,  the  Gheber ! — at  the  thought 

Her  very  heart's  blood  chills  within ; 

^  D'Herbelot,  art.  AgJuani. 

^  "The  Guebres  are  known  by  a  dark  yellow  colour,  which  the  men  afiect 
in  their  clothes." — Thevenot. 

c  "The  Kolah,  or  cap,  worn  by  the  Persians,  is  made  of  the  skin  of  the  sheep 
of  Tartary." —  Waring. 


248  LALLA    ROOKH. 

He,  whom  her  soul  was  hourly  taught 
To  loathe,  as  some  foul  fiend  of  sin. 
Some  minister,  whom  Hell  had  sent 
To  spread  its  blast,  where'er  he  went, 
And  fling,  as  o'er  our  earth  he  trod, 
His  shadow  betwixt  man  and  God! 
And  she  is  now  his  captive, — thrown 
In  his  fierce  hands,  alive,  alone ; 
His  the  infuriate  band  she  sees, 
All  infidels — all  enemies  ! 
What  was  the  daring  hope  that  then 
Crossed  her  like  lightning,  as  again. 
With  boldness  that  despair  had  lent. 

She  darted  through  that  armed  crowa 
A  look  so  searching,  so  intent. 

That  ev'n  the  sternest  warrior  bowed 
Abashed,  when  he  her  glances  caught, 
As  if  he  guessed  whose  form  they  sought! 
But  no — she  sees  him  not — 'tis  gone, 
The  vision  that  before  her  shone 
Through  all  the  maze  of  blood  and  storm, 
Is  fled — 'twas  but  a  phantom  form — ■ 
One  of  those  passing,  rainbow  dreams. 
Half  light,  half  shade,  which  Fancy's  beams 
Paint  on  the  fleeting  mists  that  roll 
In  trance  or  slumber  round  the  soul. 


THE    F  I  K  E  -W  0  R  S  H  1  P  P  E  R  S.  2 19 

But  now  the  bark,  with  hveher  bound, 

Scales  the  blue  wave — the  crew's  in  motion, 
The  oars  are  out,  and  with  light  sound 

Break  the  bright  mirror  of  the  ocean, 
Scatterino-  its  brilliant  fraiiments  round. 
And  now  she  sees — with  horror  sees. 

Their  course  is  toward  that  mountain-hold, — • 
Those  towers,  that  make  her  lite-blood  freeze, 
Where  Mecca's  god. ess  enemies 

Lie,  like  beleaguered  scorpions,  rolled 

In  their  last  deadly,  venomous  fold ! 
Amid  th'  illumined  land  and  flood 
Sunless  that  mighty  mountain  stood ; 
Save  where,  above  its  awful  head. 
There  shone  a  flaming  cloud,  blood- red, 
As  'twere  the  flag  of  destiny 
Huns:  out  to  mark  where  death  would  be ' 


Had  her  bewildered  mind  the  power 
Of  thought  in  this  terrific  hour, 
She  well  might  marvel  where  or  how 
Man's  toot  could  scale  that  mountain's  brow, 
Since  ne'er  had  Arab  heard  or  known 
Of  path  but  through  the  glen  alone. — 
But  every  thought  was  lost  in  fear, 
When,  as  tlieir  bounding  bark  drew  near 


250  LALLA    KOOKH. 

The  craggy  base,  she  fe, .  the  waves 
Hurry  them  toward  tliose  dismal  caves 
That  from  the  Deep  in  windings  pass 
Beneath  that  Mount's  volcanic  mass ; — 
And  loud  a  voice  on  deck  commands 
To  lower  the  mast  and  light  the  brands !— > 
Instantly  o'er  the  dashing  tide 
Within  a  cavern's  moutli  they  glide. 
Gloomy  as  that  eternal  Porch 

Through  which  departed  spirits  go ; — 
Not  ev'n  the  flare  of  brand  and  torch 
Its  flickering  light  could  further  throw 
Than  the  thick  flood  that  boiled  below. 
Silent  they  floated — as  if  each 
Sat  breathless,  and  too  awed  for  speech 
In  that  dark  chasm,  where  even  sound 
Seemed  dark, — so  sullenly  around 
The  e:oblin  echoes  of  the  cave 
Muttered  it  o'er  the  long  black  wave 
As  'twere  some  secret  of  the  grave ! 

But  soft — they  pause — the  current  turns 

•  Beneath  them  from  its  onward  track  ;— 
Some  mighty,  unseen  barrier  spurns 

The  vexed  tide,  all  foaming,  back, 
And  scarce  the  oars'  redoubled  force 
Can  stem  the  eddy's  whirling  course  ; 


THE    FIRE- WORSHIPPERS.  251 

When,  hark ' — some  desperate  foot  has  sprunar 

Among  the  rocks — the  chain  is  flung — 

The  oars  are  u]) — the  grapple  chngs, 

And  the  tossed  bark  in  moorings  swings. 

Just  then,  a  daybeam  through  the  shade 

Broke  tremulous — but,  ere  the  maid 

Can  see  from  whence  the  brightness  steals, 

Upon  her  brow  she  shuddering  feels 

A  viewless  hand,  that  promptly  ties 

A  bandage  round  her  burning  eyes ; 

While  the  rude  litter  where  she  lies, 

Uplifted  by  the  warrior  throng. 

O'er  the  steep  rocks  is  borne  along. 


Blest  power  of  sunshine  I-^-genial  Day;, 
What  balm,  what  life  is  in  thy  ray ! 
To  feel  thee  is  such  real  bliss. 
That  had  the  world  no  joy  but  this, 
To  sit  in  sunshine  calm  and  sweet, — 
It  were  a  world  too  exquisite 
For  man  to  leave  it  for  the  gloom, 
The  deep,  cold  shadow  of  the  tomb. 
Ev'n  HiNDA,  though  she  saw  not  where 

Or  whither  wound  the  perilous  road, 
Yet  knew  by  that  awakening  air, 

Which  suddenly  around  her  glowed, 


253  L  A  I-  L  A    R  O  O  i  IT. 

That  tliey  had  risen  from  dark  :iess  then, 
And  breathed  the  sunny  world  again. 

But  soon  this  bahny  freshness  fled — 

For  now  the  steepy  labyrinth  ed 

Through  damp  and  gloom — mid  crash  of  bouffhs, 

And  fall  of  loosened  crags,  that  rouse 

The  leopard  from  his  hungry  sleep, 

Who,  starting,  thinks  each  crag  a  prey, 
And  long  is  heard,  from  steep  to  steep. 

Chasing  them  down  their  thundering  way ! 
The  jackal's  cry — the  distant  moan 
Of  the  hyena,  fierce  and  lone — 
And  that  eternal  saddening  sound 

Of  torrents  in  the  glen  beneath, 
As  'twere  the  ever-dark  Profound 

That  rolls  beneath  the  Bridge  of  Death ! 
All,  all  is  fearful — ev'n  to  see. 

To  2:aze  on  those  terrific  thin2"s 
She  now  but  blindly  hears,  would  be 

Relief  to  her  imaginings  ; 
Since  never  yet  was  shape  so  dread. 

But  Taney,  thus  in  darkness  thrown, 
And  by  such  sounds  of  horror  fed. 

Could  frame  more  dreadful  of  her  own. 


THE    F  I  R  E  -  W  0  R  S  r.  I  P  P  E  R  S.  2G3 


But  does  she  dream  ?  has  Fear  again 

Perplexed  the  workings  of  her  brain, 

Or  did  a  voice,  all  music,  then 

Come  from  the  gloom,  low  whispering  near — 

"Tremble  not,  love,  thy  Gheber's  here?" 

She  does  not  dream — all  sense,  all  ear, 

She  drinks  the  words,  "Thy  Gheber's  here." 

'Twas  his  own  voice — she  could  not  err — 

Throuo-hout  the  breathino-  vrorld's  extent 
There  was  but  one  such  voice  for  her. 

So  kind,  so  soft,  so  eloquent! 
0,  sooner  shall  the  rose  of  May 

Mistake  her  own  sweet  nightingale, 
And  to  some  meaner  minstrel's  lay 

Open  her  bosom's  glowing  veil,'' 
Than  Love  shall  ever  doubt  a  tone, 
A  breath  of  the  beloved  one. ! 

Though  blessed,  mid  all  her  ills,  to  think 

She  has  that  one  beloved  near. 
Whose  smile,  though  met  on  ruin's  brink, 

Hath  power  to  make  ev'n  ruin  dear, — 
Yet  soon  this  gleam  of  rapture,  crossed 
By  fears  for  him,  is  chilled  and  lost. 


g  A  frequent  image  among  the  Oriental  poets.  "  The  nigntingales  warhlcd 
their  enchanting  notes,  and  rent  the  thin  veils  of  the  rosc-l)uJ  ami  tiie  rose." — • 
Jami, 

V 


254  L  A  L  L  A    R  U  0  K  H. 

How  Siiall  the  ruthless  Hafed  brook 
That  one  of  Gheber  blood  should  look, 
With  aught  but  curses  in  his  eye, 
On  her — a  maid  of  Araby — 
A  Moslem  maid — the  child  of  him, 

Whose  bloody  banner's  dire  success 
Hath  left  their  altars  cold  and  dim, 

And  their  fair  land  a  wilderness ! 
And,  worse  than  all,  that  night  of  blood 

Which  comes  so  fast — 0 !  who  shall  stay 
The  sword,  that  once  hath  tasted  food 

Of  Persian  hearts,  or  turn  its  way  ? 
What  arm  shall  then  the  victim  cover, 
Or  from  her  father  shield  her  lover  ? 

"Save  him,  my  God  !"  she  inly  cries — 
"  Save  him  this  night — and  if  thine  eyes 

"Have  ever  welcomed  with  delight 
"The  smner's  tears,  the  sacrifice 

"  Of  sinners'  hearts — guard  him  this  night, 
"  And  here,  before  thy  throne,  I  swear 
"  From  my  heart's  inmost  core  to  tear 

"  Love,  hope,  remembrance,  though  they  be 
"  Linked  with  each  quivering  life-string  there, 

"And  give  it  bleeding  all  to  Thee  ! 
«  Let  him  but  live, — the  burning  tear, 
"The  sighs,  so  sinful,  yet  so  dear, 


THE    FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 


"Which  have  been  all  too  much  his  owti, 
'<  Shall  from  this  hour  be  Heaven's  alone. 
"Youth  passed  in  penitence,  and  age 
"In  long  and  painful  pilgrimage, 
"  Shall  leave  no  traces  of  the  tiame 
"  That  wastes  me  now — nor  shall  his  name 
"  E'er  bless  my  lips,  but  when  I  pray 
"  For  his  dear  spirit,  that  away 
"  Casting  from  its  angelic  ray 
"  Th'  eclipse  of  earth,  he,  too,  may  shme 
"  Redeemed,  all  glorious  and  all  Thine  ! 
"  Think — think  what  victory  to  win 
"  One  radiant  soul  like  his  from  sin, — 
"  One  wandering  star  of  virtue  back 
<<To  its  own  native,  heavenward  track! 
"  Let  him  but  live,  and  both  are  Thine. 

"Together  thine — for,  blessed  or  crossed* 
"  Living  or  dead,  his  doom  is  mine, 

"And,  if  he  perish,  both  are  lost!" 


256  LALLA    ROOKH. 


The  next  evening  Lalla  Rookh  was  entreated  by  her 
Ladies  to  contniue  the  relation  of  her  wonderful  dream ;  but 
the  fearful  interest  that  hung  round  the  fate  of  Hinda  and 
her  lover  had  completely  removed  every  trace  of  it  from  her 
mind ;  much  to  the  disappointment  of  a  fair  seer  or  two  in 
her  train,  who  prided  themselves  on  their  skill  in  interpreting 
visions,  and  who  naa  already  remarked,  as  an  unlucky  omen, 
that  the  Princess,  on  the  very  morning  atlter  the  dream,  had 
worn  a  silk  dyed  with  the  blossoms  of  the  sorrowful  tree, 
Nilica/ 

Fadladeen,  whose  indignation  had  more  than  once 
broken  out  during  the  recital  of  some  parts  of  this  heterodox 
poem,  seemed  at  length  to  have  made  up  his  mind  to  the 
infliction ;  and  took  his  seat  this  evening  with  all  the  patience 
of  a  martyr,  while  the  Poet  resumed  his  profane  and  seditious 
story  as  fo-lows : 


a  « Blossoms  of  Ihe  sorrowful  Nyctanthes  give  a  durable  colour  to  silk." — 
Remarks  on  the  Hushandnj  of  Bengal,  p.  200.  Nilica  is  one  of  the  Indian  names 
of  this  flower. — Sir  W.  Jones.     The  Persians  call  it  ^tuU. — Carreri. 


THE    FIRE-WORSHIPPERS.  257 


To  tearless  eyes  and  hearts  at  ease 
The  leafy  shores  and  sunbright  seas, 
That  lay  beneath  that  mountain's  height, 
Had  been  a  fair,  enchantins:  sio-ht. 
'Twas  onfe  of  those  ambrosial  eves 
A  day  of  storm  so  often  leaves 
At  its  calm  setting — when  the  West 
Opens  her  golden  bowers  of  rest, 
-\nd  a  moist  radiance  from  the  skies 
Shoots  trembling  down,  as  from  the  eyes 
Of  some  meek  penitent,  Avhose  last 
Bright  hours  atone  for  dark  ones  pa.t, 
And  whose  sweet  tears,  o'er  wrong  forgiven, 
Shine,  as  they  fall,  with  light  from  heaven ! 

'Twas  stillness  all — the  w'inds  that  late 

Had  rushed  through  Kerman's  almond  groves, 

And  shaken  from  her  bowers  of  date 
That  cooling  feast  the  traveller  loves,'' 


a  « In  parts  of  Korman,  whatever  dates  are  shaken  from  the  trees  by  the 
wind  they  do  not  touch,  but  leave  thein  for  those  who  have  not  any,  or  for  tra 
vellers." — Ebn  Haukal. 

T  2 


259  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  O  K  H. 


Now,  lulled  to  languor,  scarcely  curl 

The  Green  Sea  wave,  whose  waters  gleam 
Limpid,  as  if  her  mines  of  pearl 

Were  melted  all  to  form  the  stream ; 
And  her  fair  islets,  small  and  bright. 

With  their  green  shores  reflected  there 
Look  like  those  Peri  isles  of  light. 

That  hang  by  spell-work  in  the  air. 

But  vainly  did  those  glories  burst 
On  Hinda's  dazzled  eyes,  when  first 
The  bandage  from  her  brow  was  taken, 
And,  pale  and  awed  as  those  who  waken 
In  their  dark  tombs — when,  scowling  near, 
The  Searchers  of  the  Grave ""  appear, — 
She  shuddering  turned  to  read  her  fate 

In  the  fierce  eyes  that  flashed  around  ; 
And  saw  those  towers  all  desolate. 

That  o'er  her  head  terrific  frowned, 
As  if  def}-ing  ev'n  the  smile 
Of  that  soft  heaven  to  gild  their  pile. 
In  vain  with  mingled  hope  and  fear. 
She  looks  for  him  whose  voice  so  dear 
Had  come,  like  music,  to  her  ear — 


a  The  two  terrible  angels,  Monkiv  and  Nakir,  who  are  called  "the  Searchers 
of  the  Grave"  in  the  "  Creed  of  the  orthodox  Mahometans"  given  by  Ocklcy, 
vo)  ii 


THE    F  IRE-W  0  RSHI  P  I'E  RS.  259 

Strange,  mocking  dream! — ajjain  'tis  fled. 
And  0,  tiie  shoots,  the  pangs  of  aread 
That  through  her  inmost  bosom  run. 

When  voices  from  without  proclann 
"Hafed,  the  Chief," — and,  one  by  one. 

The  warriors  shout  that  fearful  name ! 
He  comes — the  rock  resounds  his  tread — 
How  shall  she  dare  to  lift  her  head, 
Or  meet  those  eyes  whose  scorching  glare 
Not  Yemen's  boldest  sons  can  bear  ? 
In  whose  red  beam,  the  Moslem  tells. 
Such  rank  and  deadly  lustre  dwells. 
As  in  those  hellish  fires  that  light 
The  mandrake's  charnel  leaves  at  ni2:ht.* 
How  shall  she  bear  that  voice's  tone, 
At  whose  loud  battle-cry  alone 
Whole  squadrons  oft  in  panic  ran. 
Scattered  like  some  vast  caravan, 
WTien  stretched  at  evening  round  the  w^eii. 
They  hear  tlie  thirsting  tiger's  yell  ? 


Breathless  she  stands,  with  eyes  cast  down, 
Shrinking  beneath  the  fiery  frown, 


^  "The  Arabians  call  the  manJrake  'the  Devils  car.iilr,  on  account  of  As 
sliining  appearance  in  the  night.'' — liirhardsotu 


260  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  O  K  H. 


Which,  fancy  tehs  her,  from  tliat  brow 
Is  flashing  o'er  her  hercely  now  : 
And  shuddering  as  she  hears  the  tread 

Of  his  retiring  warrior  band. — 
Never  was  pause  so  full  of  dread  ; 

Till  Hafed  with  a  trembling  hand 
Took  hers,  and  leanino-  o'er  her,  said, 
"  HiNDA  ;" — that  word  was  all  he  spoke, 
Ana  •'twas  enougn — the  shriek  that  broke 

From  her  full  bosom,  told  the  rest. — 
Panting  with  terror,  joy,  surprise. 
The  maid  but  lifts  her  wonderina:  eyes, 

To  hide  them  on  her  Gheber's  breast ! 
'Tis  he,  'tis  he — the  man  of  blood. 
The  fellest  of  the  Fire-fiend's  brood, 
Hafed,  the  demon  of  the  fight. 
Whose  voice  unnerves,  whose  glances  blight,- 
Is  her  own  loved  Gheber,  mild 
And  glorious  as  when  first  he  smiled 
In  her  lone  tower,  and  left  such  beams 
Of  his  pure  eye  to  light  her  dreams, 
That  she  believed  her  bower  had  given 
Rest  tu  some  wanderer  from  heaven  I 


Moments  there  are,  and  this  was  one, 
Snatched  like  a  minute's  g^eam  of  sun 


THE    FIRE- WORSHIPPERS.  OQ\ 

Amid  the  black  Simoom's  eclipse — 

Or,  like  tliose  verdant  spots  that  bloom 
Around  the  crater's  burning  lips, 

Sweetening  the  very  edge  of  doom ! 
The  past — the  future — all  that  Fate 
Z&n  bring  of  dark  or  desperate 
Around  such  hours,  but  makes  them  cast 
Intenser  radiance  while  they  last ! 

Ev'n  he,  this  youth — though  dimmed  and  gone 

Each  star  of  Hope  that  cheered  him  on — 

His  glories  lost — his  cause  betrayed — 

Iran,  his  dear-loved  country,  made 

A  land  of  carcasses  and  slaves. 

One  dreary  waste  of  chains  and  graves ! 

Himself  but  lingering,  dead  at  heart, 

To  see  the  last,  long  struggling  breath 
Of  Libtity's  great  soul  depart. 

Then  lay  him  down  and  share  her  death— 
Ev'n  he,  so  sunk  in  wretchedness, 

With  doom  still  darker  gathering  o'er  hun, 
Yet,  in  this  moment's  pure  caress. 

In  the  mild  eyes  that  shone  before  him, 
Beaming  that  blest  assurance,  worth 
All  other  transports  known  on  earth, 
That  he  was  loved — well,  warmly  loved— 
0  !  in  this  precio  is  hour  he  proved 


262  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 

How  deep,  how  thorough-felt  the  glow 
Of  rapture,  kindling  out  of  woe ; — 
How  exquisite  one  single  drop 
Of  bliss,  thus  sparkling  to  the  top 
Of  misery's  cup — how  keenly  quaffed, 
Though  death  must  follow  on  the  draught ! 


She,  too,  while  gazing  on  those  eyes 

That  sink  into  her  soul  so  deep, 
Forgets  all  fears,  all  miseries. 

Or  feels  them  like  the  wretch  in  sleep, 
Whom  fancy  cheats  into  a  smile, 
Who  dreams  of  joy,  and  sobs  the  while! 
The  mighty  Ruins  where  they  stood, 

Upon  the  mount's  high,  rocky  verge. 
Lay  open  towards  the  ocean  flood. 

Where  lightly  o'^er  the  illumined  surge 
Many  a  fair  bark  that,  all  the  day. 
Had  lurked  in  sheltering  creek  or  bay, 
Now  bounded  on,  and  gave  their  sails, 
Yet  dripping,  to  the  evening  gales ; 
Like  eagles,  when  the  storm  is  done. 
Spreading  their  wet  wings  in  the  sun. 
The  beauteous  clouds,  though  daylight^s  Star 
Had  sunk  behind  the  hills  of  Lar, 
Were  still  with  lingering  glories  bright, — 


THE    F  I  R  E  -  \V  0  R  S  H  I  P  P  E  R  S.  203 

As  if,  to  grace  the  gorgeous  West, 

The  Spirit  of  departing  Light 
That  eve  had  left  his  sunny  vest 

Behind  him,  ere  he  winged  his  flight. 
Never  was  scene  so  formed  for  love  ! 
Beneath  them  waves  of  crystal  move 
In  silent  swell — Heaven  glows  above, 
And  their' pure  hearts,  to  transport  given. 
Swell  like  the  wave,  and  glow  like  Heaven. 


But  ah !  too  soon  that  dream  is  past — 

Again,  again  her  fear  returns  ; — 
Night,  dreadful  night,  is  gathering  fast, 

More  faintly  the  horizon  burns, 
And  every  rosy  tint  that  lay 
On  the  smooth  sea  hath  died  away. 
Hastily  to  the  darkening  skies 
A  glance  she  casts — then  wildly  cries, 
^^At  7iighf,  he  said — and,  look,  'tis  near — 

"Fly,  fly — if  yet  thou  lov'st  me,  fly — 
"  Soon  will  his  murderous  band  be  here, 

"And  I  shall  see  thee  bleed  and  die. — 
"Hush !  heard'st  thou  not  the  tramp  of  men 
"  Soundmg  from  yonder  fearful  glen  ? — 
"Perhaps  ev'n  now  they  climb  the  wood — 

"  Fly,  fly— though  still  the  West  is  bright, 


264  LALLA    ROOKH. 


"He'll  come — 0  !  yes — he  wants  thy  blood- 
"  I  know  him — he'll  not  wait  for  nicht !" 


In  terrors  ev'n  to  agony 

She  clings  around  the  wondering  Chief; — 
"Alas,  poor  wildered  maid  !  to  me 

"Thou  ow'st  this  ravins:  trance  of  ofricf. 
"  Lost  as  I  am,  naught  ever  grew 
"Beneath  my  shade  but  perished  too — 
"My  doom  is  like  the  Dead  Sea  air, 
"And  nothing  lives  that  enters  there! 
"  Why  were  our  barks  together  driven 
"Beneath  this  morning's  furious  heaven? 
"  Why,  when  I  saw  the  prize  that  chance 

"Had  thrown  into  my  desperate  arms, — 
"  When,  casting  but  a  single  glance 

"  Upon  thy  pale  and  prostrate  charms, 
"  I  vowed  (though  watching  viewless  o'er 

"  Thy  safety  through  that  hour's  alarms) 
•"  To  meet  th'  unmanning  sight  no  more — 
"Why  have  I  broke  that  heart- wrung  vow? 
"  Why  weakly,  madly  met  tliee  now  ? 
"  Start  not-rthat  noise  is  but  the  shock 

"  Of  torrents  through  yon  valley  hurled — 
"Dread  nothing  here — upon  this  rock 

"We  stand  above  the  jarring  world, 


THE    FIRE- WORSHIPPERS.  265 

"  Alike  beyond  its  hope — its  dread — 
"  In  gloomy  safety,  like  the  Dead ! 
"  Oi-,  could  ev'n  earth  and  hell  unite 
"  In  league  to  storm  this  Sacred  Height, 
"Fear  nothing  thou — myself,  to-night, 
"And  each  o'erlooking  star  that  dwells 
"Near  God,  will  be  thy  sentinels; 
"And,  ere  to-morrow's  dawn  shall  glow, 

"Back  to  thy  sire " 

"  To-morrow ! — no — '■* 
The  maiden  screamed — "thou'lt  never  see 
"  To-morrow's  sun — death,  death  will  be 
"  The  night-cry  through  each  reeking  tower, 
"  Unless  we  fly,  ay,  fly,  this  hour ! 
"  Thou  art  betrayed — some  wretch  who  knew 
"  That  dreadful  glen's  mysterious  clew — 
"  Nay,  doubt  not — by  yon  stars,  'tis  true — 
"  Hath  sold  thee  to  my  vengeful  sire  ; 
"This  morning,  with  that  smile  so  dire 
"He  wears  in  joy,  he  told  me  all, 
"  And  stamped  in  triumph  through  our  hall, 
"  As  though  thy  heart  already  beat 
"  Its  last  life-throb  beneath  his  feet ! 
<  Good  Heaven,  how  little  dreamed  I  then 

"  His  victim  was  my  own  loved  youth! 
*  Fly — send — let  some  one  watch  the  glen — • 

"By  all  my  hopes  of  heaven,  'tis  truth!" 


SG6  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 

O !  colder  than  the  \vind  that  freezes 

Founts,  that  but  now  in  sunshine  played. 
Is  that  congealing  pang  which  seizes 

The  trusting  bosom,  when  betrayed. 
He  felt  it — deeply  felt — and  stood, 
As  if  the  tale  had  frozen  his  blood, 

So  mazed  and  motionless  was  he  ; — 
Like  one  whom  sudden  spells  enchant, 
Or  some  mute,  marble  habitant 

Of  the  still  Halls  of  Ishmoxie  ! " 

But  soon  the  painful  chill  was  o'er, 
And  his  great  soul,  herself  once  more, 
Looked  from  his  brow  in  all  the  rays 
Of  her  best,  happiest,  grandest  days. 
Never,  in  moment  most  elate. 

Did  that  high  spirit  loftier  rise  ; — 
While  bright,  serene,  determinate, 

His  looks  are  lifted  to  the  skies, 
As  if  the  signal  lights  of  Fate 

Were  shining  in  those  awful  ej'es ! 
'Tis  come — his  hour  of  martyrdom 
In  Iran's  sacred  cause  is  come  ; 


a  For  an  account  of  Ishmonie,  the  petrified  city  in  Upper  Ea^'pt,  where  it  ia 
eaid  there  are  many  statues  of  men,  women,  &c.,  to  be  seen  to  ihis  day,  see 
Perry^s  View  of  ths  jevant. 


THE    F  I  R  E  -  W  O  R  S  li  I  P  P  E  R  S.  207 

And,  though  his  life  hath  passed  away 
Like  lightning  on  a  stormy  day, 
Yet  shall  his  death-hour  leave  a  track 

Of  glory,  permanent  and  bright, 
To  which  the  brave  of  after-times. 
The  suffering  brave,  shall  long  look  back 

With  proud  regret, — and  by  its  light 

Watch  through  the  hours  of  slavery's  night 
For  vengeance  on  th'  oppressor's  crimes. 
This  rock,  his  monument  aloft. 

Shall  speak  the  tale  to  many  an  age  ; 
And  hither  bards  and  heroes  oft 

Shall  come  in  secret  pilgrimage. 
And  bring  their  warrior  sons,  and  tell 
The  wondering  boys  where  Hafed  fell ; 
And  swear  them  on  those  lone  remains 
Of  their  lost  country's  ancient  fanes. 
Never — Avhile  breath  of  life  shall  live 
Within  them — never  to  forgive 
Th'  accursed  race,  whose  ruthless  chain 
Hath  left  on  Iran's  neck  a  stain 
Blood,  blood  alone  can  cleanse  again! 


Such  ai-e  the  swellinof  thousrhts  that  now 
Enthrone  themselves  on  Hafed's  brow ; 


268  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  O  K  H. 

And  ne'er  did  Saint  of  Issa^  gaze 

On  the  red  Avreath,  for  martyrs  twined, 
More  proudly  than  the  youth  surveys 

That  pile,  which  through  the  gloom  behind, 
Half  lighted  by  the  altar's  fire, 
Glimmers — his  destined  funeral  pyre  ! 
Heaped  by  his  own,  his  comrades'  hands, 

Of  every  wood  of  odorous  breath, 
There,  by  the  Fire- God's  shrine  it  stands, 

Ready  to  fold  in  radiant  death 
The  few  still  left  of  those  who  swore 
To  perish  there,  when  hope  was  o'er — 
The  few,  to  whom  that  couch  of  flame. 
Which  rescues  them  from  bonds  and  shame, 
Is  sweet  and  welcome  as  the  bed 
For  their  own  infant  Prophet  spread. 
When  pitying  Heaven  to  roses  turned 
The  death-flames  that  beneath  him  burned ! " 


a  Jesus. 

^  The  Ghebers  say  that  when  Abraham,  their  great  Prophet,  was  thrown 
into  the  fire  by  order  of  Nimrod,  the  flame  turned  instantly  into  "  a  bed  of  roses, 
where  the  child  sweetly  reposed." — Tavernier. 

Of  their  other  Prophet,  Zoroaster,  there  is  a  stoiy  told  in  Dion  Prusmts, 
Orat.  36,  that,  the  love  of  wisdom  and  virtue  leading  him  to  a  solitary 
life  upon  a  mountain,  he  found  it  one  day  all  in  a  flame,  shining  with 
celestial  fire,  out  of  which  he  came  without  any  harm,  and  instituted  certain 
sacrifices  to  God,  who,  he  declared,  then  appeared  to  him. — v.  Patrick  on 
Exodus,  iii.  2. 


THE    FIRE- WORSHIPPERS.  2G9 

With  watchfulness  the  maid  attends 
His  rapid  glance,  where'er  it  bends — 
Why  shoot  his  eyes  such  awful  beams  ? 
What  plans  he  now?  what  thinks  or  dreams? 
Alas  !  why  stands  he  musing  here, 
When  every  moment  teems  with  fear  ? 
"Hafed,  my  own  beloved  Lord," 
She  kneeling  cries — "  first,  last  adored ! 
"  If  in  that  soul  thou'st  ever  felt 

"  Half  what  thy  lips  impassioned  swore, 
<'  Here,  on  my  knees  that  never  kn^It 

"  To  any  but  their  God  before, 
"  I  pray  thee,  as  thou  lov'st  me,  fly — 
"  Now,  now — ere  yet  their  blades  are  nigh. 
"  0  haste — the  bark  that  bore  me  hither 

"  Can  waft  us  o'er  yon  darkening  sea 
"  East — west — alas,  I  care  not  whither, 

"  So  thou  art  safe,  and  I  with  thee ! 
"  Go  Avhere  we  will,  this  hand  in  thine, 

"  Those  eyes  before  me  smiling  thus, 
"Tiirough  good  and  ill,  through  storm  and  shine, 

"  The  world's  a  world  of  love  for  us  ' 
"On  some  calm,  blessed  shore  we'll  dwell, 
"  Wliere  'tis  no  crime  to  love  too  well ; — 
"  Where  thus  to  worship  tenderly 
"  An  erring  child  of  light  like  thee 
"  W^ill  not  be  sin — or,  if  it  be, 

z2 


270  LALLA    ROOKH. 


"  Where  we  may  weep  our  faults  away, 
"  Together  kneehng,  night  and  day, 
"  Thou,  for  my  sake,  at  Alla's  shrine, 
"And  I — at  any  God's,  for  thine!" 

Wildly  these  passionate  words  she  spoke — 
Then  hung  her  head,  and  wept  for  shame  ^ 

Sobbing,  as  if  a  heartstring  broke 

With  every  deep-heaved  sob  that  came. 

While  he,  young,  warm — 0  !  wonder  not 
If,  for  a  moment,  pride  and  fame, 
His  oath — his  cause — that  shrine  of  flame, 

And  Iran's  self  are  all  forgot 

For  her  whom  at  his  feet  he  sees 

Kneeling  in  speechless  agonies. 

No,  blame  him  not,  if  Hope  awhile 

Dawned  in  his  soul,  and  threw  her  smile 

O'er  hours  to  come — o'er  days  and  nights, 

Winged  with  those  precious,  pure  delights 

Which  she,  who  bends  all  beauteous  there, 

Was  born  to  kindle  and  to  share. 

A  tear  or  two,  which,  as  he  bowed 

To  raise  the  suppliant,  trembling  stole, 

First  warned  him  of  this  dangerous  cloud 
Of  softness  passing  o'er  his  soul. 

Starting,  he  brushed  the  drops  away. 

Unworthy  o'er  that  cheek  to  stray; — 


THE    FIRE-WORSHIPPERS.  271 

Like  one  who,  on  the  morn  of  fight, 
Shakes  from  his  sword  the  dews  of  night, 
That  had  but  dimmed,  not  stained  its  hght. 

Yet,  though  subdued  th'  unnerving  thrill. 
Its  warmth,  its  weakness  lingered  still 

So  touching  in  each  look  and  tone, 
That  the  fond,  fearing,  hoping  maid 
Half  counted  on  the  flight  she  prayed. 

Half  thought  the  hero's  soul  was  grown 

As  soft,  as  yielding  as  her  own. 
And  smiled  and  blessed  him,  while  he  said — 
"  Yes — if  there  be  some  happier  sphere, 
"  Where  fadeless  truth  like  ours  is  dear, — 
"  If  there  be  any  land  of  rest 

"For  those  who  love  and  ne'er  forget, 
"  0  !  comfort  thee — for  safe  and  bless'd 

"  We'll  meet  in  that  calm  region  yet !" 

Scarce  had  she  time  to  ask  her  heart 
If  good  or  ill  these  words  impart, 
When  the  roust-d  youth  impatient  flew 
To  the  tower- wall,  where,  high  in  view, 
A  ponderous  sea-horn'^  l^ung,  and  blew 

»  "The  shell  called  Siiankos,  common  to  India,  Africa,  and  the  Mediterranean. 
ma  still  used  in  many  parts  as  a  trumpet  for  blowing  alarms  or  giving  siy[nals, 
it  sends  forth  a  deep  and  hollow  sound. — Peaiiurd. 


272  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 


A  signal,  deep  and  dread  as  those 
The  storm-fiend  at  his  rising  blows. — 
Full  well  his  Chieftains,  sworn  and  ti'ue 
Through  life  and  death,  that  signal  knew; 
For  'twas  th'  appointed  warning  blast, 
Th'  alarm,  to  tell  when  hope  w^as  past, 
And  the  tremendous  death-die  cast! 
And  there,  upon  the  mouldering  tower, 
Hath  hung  this  sea-horn  many  an  hour, 
Ready  to  sound  o'er  land  and  sea 
That  dirge- note  of  the  brave  and  free. 

They  came — his  Chieftains  at  the  call 
Came  slowly  round,  and  with  them  all — 
Alas,  how  few  ! — the  worn  remains 
Of  those  who  late  o'er  Kerman's  plains 
Went  gayly  prancing  to  the  clash 

Of  Moorish  zel  and  tymbalon. 
Catching  new  hope  from  every  flash 

Of  their  long  lances  in  the  sun. 
And,  as  their  coursers  charged  the  wind, 
And  the  white  ox-tails  streamed  behind,^ 
Looking,  as  if  the  steeds  they  rode 
Were  winged,  and  every  Chief  a  God ! 

^  "  The  finest  ornament  for  the  horses  is  made  of  six  large  flying  tassels  of 
long  white  hair,  taken  out  of  the  tails  of  wild  oxen,  that  are  to  be  found  in  some 
places  of  the  Indies." — Thccenot. 


THE    FIRE- WORSHIPPERS.  273 

How  fallen,  how  altered  now !  how  wan 

Each  scarred  and  faded  visage  shone, 

As  round  the  burning  shrine  they  came ; — 

How  deadly  was  the  glare  it  cast, 
As  mute  they  paused  before  the  flame 

To  light  their  torches  as  they  passed ! 
'Twas  silence  all — the  youth  hath  plarmed 
The  duties  of  his  soldier-band ; 
And  each  determined  brow  declares 
His  faithful  Chieftains  well  know  tlieirs. 

But  minutes  speed — night  gems  the  skies — 
And  0,  how  soon,  ye  blessed  eyes, 
That  look  from  heaven,"  ye  may  behold, 
Sights  that  will  turn  your  star-fires  cold ! 
Breathless  with  awe,  impatience,  hope, 
The  maiden  sees  the  veteran  group 
Her  litter  silently  prepare, 

And  lay  it  at  her  trembling  feet ; — 
And  now  the  youth,  with  gentle  care, 

Hath  placed  her  in  the  sheltered  seat. 
And  pressed  her  hand — that  lingering  press 

Of  haiids,  that  for  the  last  time  sever ; 
Of  hearts,  whose  pulse  of  happiness, 

When  that  hold  breaks,  is  dead  for  ever. 
And  yet  to  her  this  sad  caress 

Gives  hope — so  fondly  hope  can  err  I 


274  LALLA    ROOKH. 

'Twas  joy,  she  thought,  joy's  route  excess — 

Their  happy  flight's  dear  harbinger; 
'Twas  warmth — assurance — tenderness — 

'Twas  any  thing  but  leaving  her. 

"Haste,  haste!"  she  cried,  "the  clouds  grow  dark, 
"But  still,  ere  night,  we'll  reach  the  bark ; 
*'  And  by  to-morrow's  dawn — 0  bliss  ! 

"With  thee  upon  the  sunbright  deep, 
'  Far  otT',  I'll  but  remember  this, 

"  As  some  dark,  vanished  dream  of  sleep  ; 
"And  thou "  but  ah  ! — he  answers  not — 

Good  Heaven ! — and  does  she  go  alone  ? 
Slifi  now  has  reached  that  dismal  spot, 

Where,  some  hours  since,  his  voice's  tone 
Had  come  to  soothe  her  fears  and  ills, 
Sweet  as  the  angel  Israfil's,* 
When  every  leaf  on  Eden's  tree 
Is  trembling  to  his  minstrelsy — 
Yet  now — 0  now,  he  is  not  nigh. — 

"  Hafed  !  my  Hafed  ! — if  it  be 
"  Thy  will,  thy  doom  this  night  to  die, 

"  Let  me  but  stay  to  die  with  thee, 
"And  I  w'ill  bless  thy  loved  name, 
"  Till  the  last  life-breath  leave  this  frame. 

"The  angel  Israfil,  who  has  the  most  mtlodious  voice  of  all  God's  crea- 
tures."— Sale. 


THE    FIRE -WORSHIPPERS.  275 

<'  0 !  let  our  lips,  our  cheeks  be  laid 
«  But  near  each  other  while  they  fade ; 
<'  Let  us  but  mix  our  parting  breaths, 
"  And  I  can  die  ten  thousand  deaths ! 
"You  too,  who  hurry  me  away 
"So  cruelly,  one  moment  stay — 

"  0 !  stay — one  moment  is  not  much — 
"He  yet  may  come — for  him  I  pray — 
"Hafed  !  dear  Hafed! — "  all  the  way 

In  wild  lamentings,  that  would  touch 
A  heart  of  stone,  she  shrieked  his  name 
To  the  dark  woods — no  Hafed  came: — 
No — hapless  pair — you've  looked  your  last ; — 

Your  hearts  should  both  have  broken  then : 
The  dream  is  o'er — your  doom  is  cast — 

You'll  never  meet  on  earth  again! 

Alas  for  him,  who  hears  her  cries ! 

Still  half-way  down  the  steep  he  stands, 
Watching  with  fixed  and  feverish  eyes 

The  glimmer  of  those  burning  brands, 
That  down  the  rocks,  with  mournful  ray, 
Light  all  he  loves  on  earth  away ! 
Hopeless  as  they  who,  far  at  sea. 

By  the  cold  moon  have  just  consigned 
The  corse  of  one,  loved  tenderly, 

To  the  bleak  flood  they  leave  behind ; 


276  LALLA    ROOKH. 


And  on  the  deck  still  lingering  stay, 
And  long  look  back,  with  sad  delay, 
To  watch  the  moonlight  on  the  w^ave. 
That  ripples  o'er  that  cheerless  grave. 


But  see — he  starts — what  heard  he  then  ? 

That  dreadful  shout ! — across  the  glen 

From  the  land-side,  it  comes,  and  loud 

Rings  through  the  chasm ;  as  if  the  crowd 

Of  fearful  things,  that  haunt  that  dell, 

Its  Gholes  and  Dives  and  shapes  of  hell, 

Had  all  in  one  dread  howl  broke  out, 

So  loud,  so  terrible  that  shout ! 

"They  come — the  Moslems  come!" — he  cries. 

His  proud  soul  mounting  to  his  eyes, — 

"  Now,  Spirits  of  the  Brave,  w^ho  roam 

"  Enfranchised  through  yon  starry  dome, 

"  Rejoice — for  souls  of  kindred  fire 

"  Are  on  the  wing  to  join  your  choir !" 

He  said — and,  light  as  bridegrooms  bound 

To  their  young  loves,  reclimbed  the  steep 
And  gained  the  Shrine — his  Chiefs  stood  round— 

Their  swords,  as  with  instinctive  leap. 
Together,  at  that  cry  accursed, 
Had  from  their  sheaths,  like  sunbeams,  burst. 
And  hark ! — again — again  it  rings ; 
Near  and  more  near  its  echoings 


THE    FIRE- WORSHIPPERS.  277 


Peal  ihrough  the  chasm — 0  !  uho  that  then 
Had  seen  those  hstening  ^YalTior-men, 
With  their  swords  grasped,  their  eyes  of  flame 
Turned  on  their  Chief — could  doubt  the  shame, 
Th'  indignant  shame  with  which  they  thrill 
To  hear  those  shouts  and  yet  stand  still  ? 


He  read  their  thoughts — they  were  his  own — 

"  What !  while  our  arms  can  wield  these  blades, 
"Shall  we  die  tamely?  die  alone? 

"  Without  one  victim  to  our  shades, 
"  One  Moslem  heart,  where,  buried  deep. 
'<■  The  sabre  from  its  toil  may  sleep  ? 
"  No — God  of  Iran's  burning  skies ! 
"  Thou  scorn'st  th'  inglorious  sacrifice. 
"  No — though  of  all  earth's  hope  bereft, 
"  Life,  swords,  and  vengeance  still  are  left. 
<<  We'll  make  yon  valley's  reeking  caves 

"  Live  in  the  awe-struck  minds  of  men, 
*■'  Till  tyrants  shudder,  when  their  slaves 

"  Tell  of  the  Gheber's  bloody  glen. 
«'  Follov/,  brave  hearts ! — thi's  pile  remams 
«'  Our  refuge  still  from  life  and  chams  : 
<'  But  his  the  best,  the  holiest  bed, 
"  Who  sinks  entombed  in  Moslem  dead  !'* 

2  A 


278  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

Down  the  precipitous  rocks  they  sprung, 
While  vigour,  more  than  human,  strung 
Each  arm  and  heart. — Th'  exulting  foe 
StiU  through  the  dark  defiles  below. 
Tracked  by  his  torches'  lurid  fire, 

Wound  slow,  as  through  Golconda's  vale* 
The  mighty  serpent,  in  his  ire. 

Glides  on  with  glittering,  deadly  trail. 
No  torch  the  Ghebers  need — so  well 
They  know  each  mystery  of  the  deU, 
So  oft  have,  in  their  wanderings. 
Crossed  the  wild  race  that  round  them  dwell. 

The  very  tigers  from  their  delves 
Looked  out,  and  let  them  pass,  as  things 

Untamed  and  fearless  like  themselves! 


There  was  a  deep  ravine,  that  lay 

Yet  darkling  in  the  Moslem's  way ; 

Fit  spot  to  make  invaders  rue 

The  many  fallen  before  the  few. 

The  torrents  from  that  morning's  sky 

Had  filled  the  narrow  chasm  breast-high, 

And,  on  each  side,  aloft  and  wild. 

Huge  clitTs  and  toppling  crags  were  piled,- 

*  See  Hoole  upon  the  Story  of  Sinbad. 


THE    FIRE-WOJRSHIPPERS.  279 

The  guards  with  which  young  Freedom  hnes 
The  pathways  to  her  mountain  shrines, 
Here  at  this  pass,  the  scanty  band 
Of  Iran's  last  avengers  stand  ; 
Here  wait,  in  silence  like  the  dead. 
And  listen  for  the  Moslem's  tread 
So  anxiously,  the  carrion-bird 
Above  them  flaps  his  wing  unheard ! 

They  come — that  plunge  into  the  water 
Gives  signal  for  the  work  of  slaughter. 
Now,  Ghebers,  now — if  e'er  your  blades 

Had  point  or  prowess,  prove  them  now— 
Woe  to  the  file  that  foremost  wades ! 

They  come — a  falchion  greets  each  brow, 
.  And,  as  they  tumble,  trunk  on  trunk. 
Beneath  the  gory  waters  sunk. 
Still  o'er  their  drow-ning  bodies  press 
New  victims  quick  and  numberless  ; 
Till  scarce  an  arm  in  Hafed's  band, 

So  fierce  their  toil,  hath  power  to  stir, 
But  listless  from  each  crimson  hand 

The  sword  hangs,  clogged  with  massacre. 
Never  was  horde  of  tyrants  met 
With  bloodier  welcome — never  yet 
To  patriot  vengeance  hath  the  sword 
More  terrible  libations  poured ! 


280  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  O  K  H. 

All  up  the  dreary,  long  ravine, 
By  the  red,  murky  glimmer  seen 
Of  half-quenched  brands,  that  o'er  the  flood 
Lie  scattered  round  and  burn  in  blood. 
What  ruin  glares !  what  carnage  swims ! 
Heads,  blazing  turbans,  quivering  limbs. 
Lost  swords  that,  dropped  from  many  a  hand, 
In  that  thick  pool  of  slaughter  stand  ; 
Wretches  who  wading,  half  on  fire 

From  the  tossed  brands  that  round  them  fly, 
'Twixt  flood  and  flames  in  shrieks  expire  : — 
And  some  who,  grasped  by  those  that  die, 
Sink  woundless  with  them,  smothered  o'er 
In  their  dead  brethren's  gushing  gore  ! 


But  vainly  hundreds,  thousands  bleed, 
Still  hundreds,  thousands  more  succeed ; 
Countless  as  towards  some  flame  at  night 
The  North's  dark  insects  wins:  their  flight. 
And  quench  or  perish  in  its  light. 
To  this  terrific  spot  they  pour — 
Till,  bridged  with  Moslem  bodies  o'er, 
It  bears  aloft  their  slippery  tread. 
And  o'er  the  dying  and  the  dead, — 
Tremendous  causeway ! — on  they  pass. 
Then,  hapless  Ghebers,  then,  alas ! 


THE    FIRE- WORSHIPPERS.  2S1 

What  hope  was  left  for  you  ?  for  you, 

Whose  yet  warm  pile  of  sacrifice 

Is  smoking  in  their  vengeful  e3'es  : — 

Whose  swords  how  keen,  how  fierce  they  knew, 

And  burn  with  shame  to  find  how  few. 

Crushed  down  by  that  vast  multitude, 
Some  found  their  graves  where  first  they  stood ; 
While  some  with  hardier  struggle  died, 
And  still  fought  on  by  Hafed's  side, 
Who,  fronting  to  the  foe,  trod  back 
Towards  the  high  towers  his  gory  track ; 
And,  as  a  lion  swept  away 

By  sudden  swell  of  Jordan's  pride 
From  the  wild  covert  where  he  lay,"* 

Long  battles  with  th'  o'erwhelming  tide. 
So  fought  he  back  with  fierce  delay, 
And  Kept  both  foes  and  fate  at  bay. 

But  whither  now  ?  tlieir  track  is  lost. 

Their  prey  escaped — guide,  torches  gone — 

By  torrent-beds  and  labyrinths  crossed. 
The  scattered  crowd  rush  blindly  on — 


»  "In  til's  thicket,  upon  the  banks  of  the  Jordan,  several  sorts  of  wild  beasts 
ao-e  wont  to  harbour  themselves,  whose  being  washed  out  of  the  covert  by  the 
overflowings  of  the  river,  gave  occasion  to  that  allusion  of  Jeremiah,  he  shall 
tome  up  like  a  lion  from  the  sivclling  of  Jordan." — Maundrcirs  Aleppo. 

2  A  2 


2S2  LALLA    ROOKH. 

"  Curse  on  those  tardy  lights  that  ^Yind," 

They  panting  cry,  "so  far  behind; 

"0  for  a  bloodJiouiid's  precious  scent, 

"To  track  the  way  the  Gheber  went!" 

Vain  wish — confusedly  along 

They  rush — more  desperate  as  more  wrong : 

Till,  wildered  by  the  far-off  lights. 

Yet  glittering  up  those  gloomy  heights, 

Their  footing,  mazed  and  lost,  they  miss, 

And  down  the  darkling  precipice 

Are  dashed  into  the  deep  abyss ; 

Or  midway  hang,  impaled  on  rocks, 

A  banquet,  yet  alive,  for  flocks 

Of  ravening  vultures, — while  the  dell 

Re-echoes  with  each  horrible  yell. 


Those  sounds — the  last,  to  vengeance  dear. 
That  e'er  shall  ring  in  Hafed's  ear, — 
Now  reached  him,  as  aloft,  alone. 
Upon  the  steep  way  breathless  thrown, 
He  lay  beside  his  reeking  blade, 

Resigned,  as  if  life's  task  were  o'er, 
Its  last  blood-offering  amply  paid. 

And  Iran's  self  covdd  claim  no  more. 
One  only  thought,  one  lingering  beam 
Now  broke  across  his  dizzy  dream 


THE    F  I  R  E  -  W  O  R  S  H  I  P  P  E  R  S.  283 

Of  pain  and  weariness — 'twas  she, 

His  heart's  pure  planet,  shining  yet 
Above  the  waste  of  memory. 

When  all  life's  other  lights  were  set. 
And  never  to  his  mind  before 
Her  image  such  enchantment  wore. 
It  seemed  as  if  each  thought  that  stained, 

Each  fear  that  chilled  their  loves  was  past, 
And  not  one  cloud  of  earth  remained 

Between  him  and  her  radiance  cast ; — 
As  if  to  charms,  before  so  bright, 

New  grace  from  other  worlds  was  given, 
And  his  soul  saw  her  by  the  light 

Now  breaking  o'er  itself  from  heaven! 

A  voice  spoke  near  him — 'twas  the  lone 

Of  a  loved  friend,  the  only  one 

Of  all  his  warriors,  left  with  life 

From  that  short  liight's  tremendous  strife. — 

"And  must  we  then,  my  chief,  die  here  ? 

"Foes  round  us,  and  the  Shrine  so  near!" 

These  words  have  roused  the  last  remains 

Of  life  within  him — "  What!  not  yet 
"Beyond  the  reach  of  INIoslem  chains!" 

The  thought  could  make  e'en  Death  forget 
His  icy  bondage — with  a  bound 
He  springs,  all  bleeding,  from  the  ground^ 


284 


L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 


And  grasps  his  comrade's  arm,  now  grown 

Ev'n  feebler,  heavier  than  his  own, 

And  up  tlie  painful  pathway  leads. 

Death  gaining  on  each  step  he  treads. 

Speed  them,  thou  God,  who  heardst  their  vow ! 

They  mount — they  bleed — 0,  save  them  now — 

The  crags  are  red  they've  clambered  o'er, 

The  rock-weed's  dripping  with  their  gore  ; — 

Thy  blade  too,  Hafed,  false  at  length, 

Now  breaks  beneath  thy  tottering  strength ! 

Haste,  haste — the  voices  of  the  Foe 

Come  near  and  nearer  from  below — 

One  effort  more — thank  Heaven !  'tis  past, 

They've  gained  the  topmost  steep  at  last. 

And  now  they  touch  the  temple's  walls, 

Now  Hafed  sees  the  Fire  divine — 
When,  lo ! — his  weak,  worn  comrade  falls 

Dead  on  the  threshold  of  the  Shrine. 
"  Alas,  brave  soul !  too  quickly  fled ! 

<'  And  must  I  leave  thee  withering  here, 
«  The  sport  of  every  ruffian's  tread, 

"The  mark  for  every  coward's  spear? 
"No,  by  yon  altar's  sacred  beams  !" 
He  cries,  and,  with  a  strength  that  seems 
Not  of  this  world,  uplifts  the  frame 
Of  the  fallen  Chief,  and  towards  the  flame 


THE    F  IRE-W  ORS  HIPTE  RS.  2S( 

Bears  him  along  ; — ^Yilh  death- damp  hand 

The  corpse  upon  the  pyre  he  la}s, 
Then  hghts  the  consecrated  brand, 

And  fires  the  pile,  \vhose  sudden  blaze 
Like  lightning  bursts  o'er  Oman's  Sea. — 
"Now,  Freedom's  God!  I  come  to  thee," 
The  youth  exclaims,  and  with  a  smile 
Of  triumph  vaulting  on  the  pile, 
In  that  last  effort,  ere  the  fires 
Have  harmed  one  glorious  limb,  expires ! 

What  shriek  was  that  on  Oman's  tide  ? 

It  came  fi'ora  yonder  drifting  bark. 
That  just  hath  caught  upon  her  side 
The  death-light — and  again  is  dark. 
It  is  the  boat — ah,  why  delayed  ? — 
That  bears  the  wretched  Moslem  maid  ; 
Confided  to  the  watchful  care 

Of  a  small  veteran  band,  with  whom 
Their  generous  Chieftain  would  not  share 

The  secret  of  his  final  doom. 
But  hoped  when  Hinda,  safe  and  free, 

Was  rendered  to  her  father's  eyes, 
Their  pardon,  full  and  prompt,  would  be 

The  ransom  of  so  dear  a  prize. — 
Unconscious,  thus,  of  Hafed's  fate. 
And  proud  to  guard  their  beauteous  freight, 


296  LALLA    ROOKH. 


Scarce  had  they  cleared  the  surfy  waves 
That  foam  around  those  frightful  caves, 
When  the  cursed  war-whoo^js,  known  so  well, 
Came  echoing  from  the  distant  dell — 
Sudden  each  oar,  upheld  and  still, 

Hung  dripping  o'er  the  vessel's  side, 
And,  driving  at  the  current's  will. 

They  rocked  along  the  whispering  tide ; 
While  every  eye,  in  mute  dismay. 

Was  toward  that  fatal  mountain  turned, 
Where  the  dim  altar's  quivering  ray 

As  yet  all  lone  and  tranquil  burned. 

0 !  'tis  not,  HiNDA,  in  the  power 

Of  Fancy's  most  terrific  touch 
To  paint  thy  pangs  in  that  dread  hour — 

Thy  silent  agony — 'twas  >  such 
As  those  who  feel  could  paint  too  well, 
But  none  e'er  felt  and  lived  tc  tell ! 
'Twas  not  alone  the  dreary  state 
Of  a  lorn  spirit,  crushed  by  fate. 
When,  though  no  more  remains  to  dread, 

The  panic  chill  will  not  depart ; — 
When,  though  the  inmate  Hope  be  dead. 

Her  ghost  still  haunts  the  mouldering  heart 
No — pleasures,  hopes,  affections  gone, 
The  wretch  may  bear,  and  yet  live  on, 


THE    F  I  R  E  -  W  0  R  S  H  I  P  P  E  R  S.  2S7 


Like  things,  Avilhin  the  cold  rock  found 

Alive,  Avheii  all's  congealed  around 

But  there's  a  blank  repose  in  this, 

A  calm  stagnation,  that  vrere  bliss 

To  the  keen,  burning,  harrowing  pain, 

Now  felt  through  all  (hy  breast  and  brain  ; — 

That  spasm  of  terror,  mute,  intense. 

That  breathless,  agonized  suspense, 

From  whose  hot  throb,  whose  deadly  aching, 

The  heart  hath  no  relief  but  breaking! 

Calm  is  the  wave — heaven's  brilliant  lights 

Reflected  dance  beneath  the  prow  ; — 
Time  was  when,  on  such  lovely  nights, 

She  who  is  there,  so  desolate  now, 
Could  sit  all  cheerful,  though  alone, 

And  ask  no  liappier  joy  than  seeing 
That  starlight  o'er  the  waters  thrown — 
No  joy  but  that,  to  make  her  blessM, 

And  llie  fresh,  buoyant  sense  of  Being, 
Which  bounds  in  youth's  yet  careless  breast/- 
Itself  a  star,  not  borrowing  light. 
But  in  its  own  glad  essence  bright. 
How  different  now  ! — but,  hark,  again 
The  yell  of  havoc  rings — brave  men ! 
In  vain,  with  beating  hearts,  ye  stand 
On  the  bark's  ediie — in  vain  each  hand 


•288  LALLA    ROOKH. 

Half  draws  the  falchion  from  its  sheath ; 

All's  o'er — in  rust  your  blades  may  lie: — 
He,  at  whose  word  they've  scattered  death, 

Ev'n  now,  this  night,  himself  must  die ! 
Well  may  ye  look  to  yon  dim  tower, 

And  ask,  and  wondering  guess  what  mean? 
The  battle-cry  at  this  dead  hour — 

Ah !  she  could  tell  you— she,  who  leans 
Unheeded  there,  pale,  sunk,  aghast. 
With  brow  against  the  dew-cold  mast ; — 

Too  well  she  knows — her  more  than  life, 
Her  soul's  first  idol  and  its  last, 

Lies  bleeding  in  that  murderous  strife. 
But  see — what  moves  upon  the  height? 
Some  signal ! — 'tis  a  torch's  light. 

What  bodes  its  solitary  glare  ? 
In  gasping  silence  toward  the  Shrine 
All  eyes  are  turned — thine,  Hinua,  thine 

Fix  their  last,  fading  life-beams  there. 
'Twas  but  a  moment — fierce  and  high 
The  death-pile  blazed  into  the  sky, 
And  far  away,  o'er  rock  and  flood. 

Its  melancholy  radiance  sent ; 
While  Hafed,  like  a  vision,  stood 
Revealed  before  the  burning  pyre, 
Tall,  shadowy,  like  a  Spirit  of  Fire 

Shrinca  in  its  own  orand  elemen;. 


THE    FIRE-VV  ORSII  IP  PE  RS.  289 

"  ^Tis  he  !" — the  shuddering  maid  exclaims, — 
But,  while  she  speaks,  he's  seen  no  more ; 

High  burst  in  air  the  fuuei-al  flames, 
And  Iran's  hopes  and  hers  are  o'er! 

One  wild,  heart-broken  shriek  she  gave; 

Then  sprung,  as  if  to  reach  that  blaze, 

Where  still  she  fixed  her  dying  gaze. 
And,  gazing,  sunk  into  the  wave, — 

Deep,  deep,  where  never  care  or  pain 

Shall  reach  her  innocent  heart  again ! 


Farewell — farewell  to  thee,  Araby's  daughter! 

(Thus  warbled  a  Peri  beneath  the  dark  sea,) 
No  pearl  ever  lay,  under  Oman's  green  water. 

More  pure  in  its  shell  than  thy  Spirit  in  thee. 

0 !  fair  as  the  sea-flowci-  close  to  thee  o-rowinjr. 
How  light  was  thy  heart  till  Love's  witchery  came. 

Like  the  wind  of  the  south''  o'er  a  summer  lute  blowing. 
And  hushed  all  its  music,  and  withered  its  frame ! 

But  long,  upon  Araby's  green,  sunny  highlands, 
Shall  maids  and  their  lovers  remember  the  doom 

a  « This  wind  (the  Samoor)  so  softens  the  strings  of  lutes,  that  they  ear 
never  be  tuned  while  it  lasts." — Stephen's  Persia. 

2  B 


290  ■  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 

Of  her,  who  lies  sleeping  among  the  Pearl  Islands. 
With  naught  but  the  sea-star  ^  to  light  up  her  tomb. 

And  still,  when  the  merry  date-season  is  burning, 
And  calls  to  the  palm-groves  the  young  and  the  rid, 

The  happiest  there,  from  their  pastime  returning 
At  sunset,  will  weep  when  thy  story  is  told. 

The  young  village-maid,  when  with  flowers  she  dresses 
Her  dark,  flowing  hair  for  some  festival  day, 

Will  think  of  thy  fate  till,  neglecting  her  tresses, 
She  mournfully  turns  from  the  mirror  away. 

Nor  shall  Iran,  beloved  of  her  Hero  !  forget  thee — 
Though  tyrants  watch  over  her  tears  as  they  start, 

Close,  close  by  the  side  of  that  Hero  she'll  set  thee, 
Embalmed  in  the  innermost  shrine  of  her  heart. 

Farewell — be  it  ours  to  embellish  thy  pillow 

With  every  thing  beauteous  that  grows  in  the  deef  ; 

Each  flower  of  the  rock  and  each  gem  of  the  billow 
Shall  sweeten  thy  bed  and  illumine  thy  sleep. 

^  «  One  of  the  greatest  curiosities  found  in  the  Persian  Gulf  is  a  fish  wnieh 
the  EngUsh  call  gtar-fish.  It  is  circular,  and  at  night  very  luminous,  resembling 
the  full  moon  surrounded  by  rays." — Mirza  Abu  Taleb. 

*>  For  a  description  of  the  merriment  of  the  date-time,  of  their  work,  their 
dances,  and  their  return  home  from  the  palm  groves  at  the  end  of  autumn  with 
the  fruits,  see  Kempfci'  Amccnitat.  Exot. 


THE    F  I  R  E  -  W  O  R  S  H  I  P  P  E  R  S.  291 

Around  thee  shall  glisten  the  loveliest  ambei 
That  ever  the  sorrowing"  sea'-bird  has  wept ; " 

With  many  a  shell,  in  whose  hollow-wreathed  chamber 
We,  Peris  of  Ocean,  by  moonlight  have  slept. 

We'll  dive  where  the  gardens  of  coral  lie  darkling, 
And  plant  all  the  rosiest  stems  at  thy  head  ; 

We'll  seek  where  the  sands  of  the  Caspian^  are  sparkling, 
And  gather  their  gold  to  strew  over  thy  bed. 

Farewell — farewell — until  Pity's  sweet  fountain 
Is  lost  in  the  hearts  of  the  fair  and  the  brave, 

They'll  weep  for  the  Chieftain  who  died  on  that  mountain, 
They'll  weep  for  the  Maiden  who  sleeps  in  this  M'ave. 


a  eome  naturalists  have  imagined  that  amber  is  a  concretion  ot  tlic  tears  of 
birds. — See  Trcvonx,  Chambers. 

^  "  'I'he  bay  J^leselarke,  which  is  other^vise  called  the  G'Jdei)  Bav,  the  sand 
whcreol  snmes  as  fire." — Strtiy. 


292  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  O  K  H. 


The  singular  placidity  with  which  Fadladeen  had 
listened,  during  the  latter  part  of  this  obnoxious  story, 
surprised  the  Princess  and  Feramorz  exceedingly ;  and 
even  inclined  towards  him  the  hearts  of  these  unsuspicious 
young  persons,  who  little  knew  the  source  of  a  complacency 
so  marvellous.  The  truth  was,  he  had  been  organizing,  for 
the  last  few  days,  a  most  notable  plan  of  persecution  against 
tire  Poet,  in  consequence  of  some  passages  that  had  fallen 
from  him  en  the  second  evening  of  recital, — which  appeared 
to  this  worthy  Chamberlain  to  contain  language  and  princi- 
ples, for  which  nothing  short  of  the  summary  criticism  of  the 
Chabuk^  would  be  advisable.  It  was  his  intention,  therefore, 
immediately  on  their  arrival  at  Cashmere,  to  give  information 
TO  the  King  of  Bucharia  of  the  very  dangerous  sentiments 
of  his  minstrel ;  and  if,  unfortunately,  that  monarch  did  not 
act  with  suitable  vigour  on  the  occasion,  (that  is,  if  he  did 
not  give  the  Chabuk  to  Feramorz,  and  a  place  to  Fadla- 
deen,) there  would  be  an  end,  he  feared,  of  all  legitimate 
government  in  Bucharia.  He  could  not  help,  however, 
auguring  better  both  for  himself  and  the  cause  of  potentates 
in  genert.'u  ;  and  it  was  the  pleasure  arising  from  these  mingled 

a  «  The  application  of  whips  or  rods." — Dubois. 


LALLA    ROOKH.  293 

anticipations  thit  diffused  such  unusual  satisfaction  through 
his  features,  and  made  his  eyes  shine  out^  Hke  poppies  of  the 
desert,  over  the  wide  and  Hfeless  wilderness  of  that  counte- 
nance. 

i 

Having  decided  upon  the  poet's  chastisement  in  this 
manner,  he  thought  it  but  humanity  to  spare  him  the  minor 
tortures  of  criticism.  Accordingly,  when  they  assembled  the 
following  evening  in  the  pavilion,  and  Lalla  Rookk  was 
expecting  to  see  all  the  beauties  of  her  bard  melt  away,  one 
by  one,  in  the  acidity  of  criticism,  like  pearls  in  the  cup 
of  the  Egyptian  queen, — he  agreeably  disappointed  her  by 
merely  saying,  with  an  ironical  smile,  that  the  merits  of  such 
a  poem  deserved  to  be  tried  at  a  much  higher  tribunal ;  and 
then  suddenly  passed  off  into  a  panegyric  upon  all  Mussulman 
sovereigns,  more  particularly  his  august,  and  Imperial  master, 
Aurungzebe, — the  wisest  and  best  of  the  descendants  of 
Timur, — who,  among  other  great  things  he  had  done  for 
mankind,  had  given  to  him,  Fadladeen,  the  very  profitable 
posts  of  Betel-carrier,  and  Taster  of  Sherbets  to  the  Emperor, 
Chief  Holder  of  the  Girdle  of  Beautiful  Forms,''  and  Grand 
Nazir,  or  Chamberlain  of  the  Haram. 


fi  Kempfer  mentions  such  an  officer  among  tlic  aUcndants  of  the  King  of 
Persia,  and  calls  him  "  formjE  corporis  estimator."  His  business  was,  at  stated 
periods,  to  measure  the  ladies  of  the  Haram  by  a  sort  of  regulation-girdle,  wliose 
limits  it  was  not  thought  graceful  to  exceed.  If  any  of  them  outgrew  this 
etandaid  of  shape,  they  were  reduced  by  abstinence  till  they  came  within  propei 
bounds. 

2b2 


294  LALLA    ROOKH. 

They  were  now  not  far  from  that  Forbidden  River,* 
beyond  which  no  pure  Hindoo  can  pass ;  and  were  reposing 
for  a  time  in  the  rich  valley  of  Hussun  Abdaul,  which  had 
always  been  a  favourite  resting-place  of  the  Emperors  in  their 
annual  migrations  to  Cashmere.  Here  often  had  the  Light 
of  the  Faith,  Jehanguire,  been  knoAvn  to  wander  with  his 
beloved  and  beautiful  Nourmahal ;  and  here  would  Lalla 
RooKH  have  been  happy  to  remain  for  ever,  giving  up  the 
throne  of  Bucharia  and  the  world,  for  Feramorz  and  love  in 
this  sweet,  lonely  valley.  But  the  time  was  now  fast 
approaching  when  she  must  see  him  no  longer, — or,  what 
was  still  worse,  behold  him  with  eyes  whose  every  look 
belonged  to  another ;  and  there  was  a  melancholy  precious- 
ness  in  these  last  moments,  which  made  her  heart  clinsf  to 
them  as  it  would  to  life.  During  the  latter  part  of  the 
journey,  indeed,  she  had  sunk  into  a  deep  sadness,  from 
which  nothing  but  the  presence  of  the  young  minstrel  could 
awake  her.  Like  those  lamps  in  tombs,  which  only  light  up 
when  the  air  is  admitted,  it  was  only  at  his  approach  that  her 
eyes  became  smiling  and  animated.  But  here,  in  this  dear 
valley,  every  moment  appeared  an  age  of  pleasure ;  she  saw 
him  all  day,  and  was,  therefore,  all  day  happy, — resembling, 


a  The  Attock. 

"Akbar  on  his  way  ordered  a  fort  to  be  built  upon  the  Nilab,  which  he 
called  Attock,  which  means,  in  the  Indian  language,  Forbidden ;  for,  by  the 
superstition  of  the  Hindoos,  it  was  held  unlawful  to  cross  that  river." — Dow's 
Hindostan. 


L  A  L  L  A    K  O  0  K  11.  295 

she  often  thought,  that  people  of  Zinge,''  who  attribute  the 
unfading  cheerfulness  they  enjoy  to  one  genial  star  that  rises 
nightly  over  their  heads.'' 


The  whole  party,  indeed,  seemed  in  their  liveliest 
mood  during  the  few  days  they  passed  in  this  delightful 
solitude.  The  young  attendants  of  the  Princess,  who 
were  here  allowed  a  much  freer  range  than  they  could 
safely  be  indulged  with  in  a  less  sequestered  place,  ran 
wild  amontj  the  o-ardens,  and  bounded  throush  the  mea- 
dows,  lightly  as  young  roes  over  the  aromatic  plains  of 
Tibet ;  while  Fapladeen,  in  addition  to  the  spiritual  com- 
fort derived  by  him  from  a  pilgrimage  to  the  tomb  of  the 
Saint  from  whom  the  valley  is  named,  had  also  opportu- 
nities of  indulging,  in  a  small  way,  his  taste  for  victims, 
by   putting   to    death   some   hundreds   of    those   unfortunate 


*«The  inhabitants  of  this  country  (Zinge)  are  never  afflicted  with  sadness 
or  melancholy ;  on  this  subject  the  Slieilih  Jlbu-al-Klicir-Azhari  has  tlie  follow- 
ing distich : — 

«  '  Wiio  is  the  man  without  ^are  or  sorrow  (tell)  that  .  may  rub  my  hand 
to  him. 

«  '  (Behold)  the  Zingians,  without  care  or  sorrow,  frolicksome  willi  tipsmess 
and  mirth.' 

«  The  philosophers  have  discovered  that  the  cause  of  this  cheerfulness  pro- 
ceeds from  the  inlluence  of  the  star  Soheil  or  Canopus,  which  rises  over  them 
every  night." — Extract  from  a  Geographical  Persian  Muimscripl  called  Hcjl 
Aklim,  or  the  Seven  Climates,  translated  by  W.  Ouseley,  Es^. 

^  The  star  Soheil,  or  Canopua. 


290  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  ir. 

little  lizards,'"^  which  all  pious  Mussulmans  make  it  a  point 
to  kill, — taking  for  granted,  that  the  manner  in  -which  the 
creature  hangs  its  head  is  meant  as  a  mimicry  of  the  atti« 
tude  in  which  the  Faithful  say  their  prayers. 

About  two  miles  from  Hussun  Abdaul  were  those 
Royal  Gardens,^  which  had  grown  beautiful  under  the 
care  of  so  many  lovely  eyes,  and  were  beautiful  still, 
though  those  eyes  could  see  them  no  longer.  This  place, 
with  its  flowers  and  its  holy  silence,  interrupted  only  by 
the  dipping  of  the  wings  of  birds  in  its  marble  basins 
filled  with  the  pure  water  of  those  hills,  was  to  Lalla 
RooKH  all  that  her  heart  could  fancy  of  fragrance,  cool- 
ness, and  almost  heavenly  tranquillity.  As  the  Prophet 
said    of    Damascus,    "It   was   too    delicious;'"^ — and   here. 


a  «The  lizard  Stellio.  The  Arabs  call  it  Hardun.  The  Turks  kill  it,  for 
they  imagine  that  by  declining  the  head  it  mimics  them  when  they  say  their 
prayers." — Hufselqiiisl. 

^  For  these  particulars  respecting  Hussun  Abdaul  I  am  indebted  to  the  very 
interesting  Introduction  of  Mr.  Elphinstone's  work  upon  Caubul. 

c  "As  you  enter  at  that  Bazar,  without  the  gate  of  Damascus,  you  see  the 
Green  Mosque,  so  called  because  it  hath  a  steeple  faced  with  green  glazed 
bricks,  which  render  it  very  resplendent ;  it  is  covered  at  top  with  a  pavilion 
of  the  same  stuff.  The  Turks  say  this  mosque  was  made  in  that  place,  be- 
cause Mahomet,  being  come  so  far,  would  not  enter  the  town,  saying  it 
was  too  delicious." — Thevcnot.  This  reminds  one  of  the  following  pretty 
passage  in  Isaac  Walton : — "  When  I  sat  last  on  this  primrose  bank,  and 
\ooked  down  these  meadows,  I  thought  of  them  as  Charles  the  Emperor  did 
of  the  city  of  Florence,  'that  they  vvce  too  pleasant  to  be  looked  on,  but 
only  on  holidays.' " 


L  A  L  L  A    R  O  O  K  n.  297 

in  listening  to  the  sweet  voice  of  Feramorz,  or  reading 
in  his  eyes  what  yet  he  never  dared  to  tell  her,  the  most 
exquisite  moments  of  her  whole  life  were  pa^^sed.  One 
evening,  when  they  haa  Deen  talking  of  the  Sultana 
Nourmahal,  the  Light  of  the  Haram,^  who  had  so  often 
wandered  among  these  flowers,  and  fed  with  her  own 
hands,  in  those  marble  basins,  the  small,  shining  fishes  of 
w-nich  she  w^as  so  fond," — the  youth,  in  order  to  delay  the 
moment  of  separation,  proposed  to  recite  a  short  story,  or 
rather  rhapsody,  of  which  this  adored  Sultana  was  the 
heroine.  It  related,  he  said,  to  the  reconcilement  *of  a 
sort  of  lovers'  quarrel  which  took  place  between  her  and 
the  Emperor  during  a  Feast  of  Roses  at  Cashmere;  and 
would  remind  the  Princess  of  that  difference  between 
Haroun-al-Raschid  and  his  fair  mistress  Marida,''  which 
was  so   happily  made    up  by  the  soft   strains   of  the  musi- 


'^  Nourmahal  si^ifie?  Light  of  the  Haram.  She  was  afterwards  called 
Nouvjehan,  or  the  Light  of  the  WorlJ. 

*>  See  note,  p.  240. 

=  "Haroun  Al  Raschid,  cinquigme  Khalife  des  Abassidcs,  s'etant  un  jour 
brouille  avec  une  de  scs  maitresses  nommee  Maridah,  qu'il  aimoit  cependant 
jusqu'a.  I'exces,  et  cettc  mesintelligence  ayant  deja.  duree  quelque  terns  com- 
men^a  a  s'ennuyer.  Gialar  Barmaki,  son  favori,  qui  s'en  appercut,  comniarida 
a  Abbas  ben  Ahnaf,  excellent  poete  de  ce  terns  la,  de  composer  quolques 
vers  sur  le  sujet  de  cettc  brouillerie.  Ce  poete  executa  I'ordre  de  Giafar, 
qui  fit  chanter  ces  vers  par  Moussali  en  presence  du  Khalife,  et  ce  prince  fut 
tellement  touche  de  la  tendresse  des  vers  du  pocte  et  dc  la  douceur  de  la 
voix  du  musicifiT  qu'il  alia  aussi-tot  trouver  Maiidah,  et  lit  sa  paix  avec  elle." 
~^L'Herbclot. 


298  LALLA    KOOKH. 


cian,  Moussali.  As  the  story  was  chiefly  to  be  told  in 
song,  and  Feramorz  had  unluckily  forgotten  his  own  lute 
in  the  valley,  he  borrowed  the  vina  of  Lalla  Rocku's 
little  Persi?ji  slave,  and  thus  began :-~ 


THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  HAEAM. 


Who  has  not  heard  of  the  vale  of  Cashmere, 
With  its  roses  the  brightest  that  earth  ever  gave,** 

Its  temples,  and  grottoes,  and  fountains  as  clear 
As  the  love-lighted  eyes  that  hang  over  their  wavp  ^ 

0  !  to  see  it  at  sunset, — when  warm  o'er  the  Lake 
Its  splendour  at  parting  a  summer  eve  throws, 

Like  a  bride,  full  of  blushes,  when  lingering  to  take 
A  last  look  of  her  mirror  at  night  ere  she  goes ! — 

When  the  shrines  through  the  foliage  are  gleaming  half 
shown, 

And  each  hallows  the  hour  by  some  rites  of  its  own. 

Here  the  music  of  prayer  from  a  minaret  swells. 

Here  the  Magian  his  urn,  full  of  perfume,  is  swinging, 


a  "The  rose  of  Kashniire,  for  its  brilliancy  and  delicacy  of  odonr,  has  kr»g 
bef,n  proverbial  in  the  East." — Forster, 


300  LALLA    ROOKH 


And  here,  at  the  altar,  a  zone  of  sweet  bells 

Round  the  waist  of  some  fair  Indian  dancer  is  ringingf/ 
Or  to  see  it  by  moonlight, — when  mellowly  shines 
The  light  o'er  its  palaces,  gardens,  and  shrines ; 
When  the  waterfalls  gleam,  like  a  quick  fall  of  stars, 
And  the  nightingale's  hymn  from  the  Isle  of  Chenars 
Is  b  'ken  by  laughs  and  light  echoes  of  feet 
From  the  cool  shining  walks  where  the  young  people 

meet. — 
Or  at  morn,  when  the  magic  of  daylight  awakes 
A  new  wonder  each  minute,  as  slowly  it  breaks, 
Hills,  cupolas,  fountains,  called  forth  every  one 
Out  of  darkness,  as  if  but  just  born  of  the  Sun. 
When  the  Spirit  of  Fragrance  is  up  wuth  the  day, 
From  his  Haram  of  night-flowers  stealing  away  ; 
And  the  "wind,  full  of  wantonness,  wooes  like  a  lover 
The  young  aspen-trees,"  till  they  tremble  all  over. 
When  the  East  is  as  warm  as  the  light  of  first  hopes, 

And  Day,  with  his  banner  of  radiance  unfurled, 

Shines  in  through  the  mountainous  portal  °  that  opes, 

Sublime,  from  that  Valley  of  bliss  to  the  world! 


*"Tied  round  her  waist  the  zone  of  bc!ls,  that  sounded  wdth  ravishmg 
melody." — Song  of  Jayadcva. 

i"  "The  httle  isles  in  the  Lake  of  Cachemire  are  set  with  arbours  and  large- 
leavea  aspen-trees,  slender  and  tall."' — Eeniicr, 

c«The  Tuckt  Suliman,  the  name  bestowed  by  the  Mahometans  on  tnu 
fiilJ,  forms  one  side  of  a  grand  portal  to  the  Lake." — Forster. 


THE    LIGHT    OF     THE    H  A  R  A  M.  iJi*/ 


But  never  yet,  by  night  or  d;iy, 
In  dew  of  spring  or  summer's  ray. 
Did  the  sweet  Valley  shine  so  gay 
As  now  it  shines — all  love  and  light, 
Visions  by  day  and  feasts  by  night ! 
A  happier  smile  illumes  each  brow, 

With  quicker  spread  each  heart  uncloses, 
And  all  is  ecstasy, — for  now 

The  Valley  holds  its  Feast  of  Roses  ;* 
The  joyous  time,  when  pleasures  pour 
Profusely  round,  and,  in  their  shower, 
Hearts  open,  like  the  Season's  Rose, — 

The'^oweret  of  a  hundred  leaves," 
Expanding  while  the  dew-fall  flows, 

And  every  leaf  its  balm  receives. 

'Twas  when  the  hour  of  evening  came 
Upon  the  Lake,  serene  and  cool, 

When  Day  had  hid  his  sultry  flame 
Behind  the  palms  of  Baramoule,' 

When  maids  began  to  lift  their  heads. 

Refreshed,  from  their  embroidered  beds. 


^  "  The  Feast  of  Roses  continues  the  whole  time  of  their  remaining  ic 
bloom." — See  Piclro  de  la  Valle. 

*'"Gul  sad  berk,  the  Rose  of  a  hun.hed  leaves.     I  believe  a  particular 
gpecies." —  Ousclcy. 

'  Lcrnier, 

an 


?J02  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

Where  tliey  had  slept  the  sun  away, 
And  waked  to  moonhght  and  to  play. 
All  were  abroad — the  busiest  hive 
On  Bela's  «  hills  is  less  alive, 
When  saffron-beds  are  full  in  flower, 
Than  looked  the  Valley  in  that  hour. 
A  thousand  restless  torches  played 
Through  every  grove  and  island  shade  ; 
^.        A  thousand  sparkling  lamps  were  set 
*  On  every  dome  and  minaret ; 

And  fields  and  pathways,  far  and  near, 
Were  lighted  by  a  blaze  so  clear. 
That  you  could  see,  in  wandering  round. 
The  smallest  rose-leaf  on  the  ground. 
Yet  did  the  maids  and  matrons  leave 
Their  veils  at  home,  that  brilliant  eve  ; 
And  there  were  glancing  eyes  about. 
And  cheeks,  that  w^ould  not  dare  shine  out 
In  open  day,  but  thought  they  might 
Look  lovely  then,  because  'twas  night. 
And  all  were  free,  and  wandering. 

And  all  exclaimed  to  all  they  met, 
That  never  did  the  summer  bring 
So  gay  a  Feast  of  Roses  yet ; — 


*  A  place  mentioned  in  the  Toozek  Jehangeery,  or  Meniviirs  of  JehanguiJB, 
where  there  is  an  account  of  the  beds  of  saffron-flowers  about  Cashmere. 


THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    H  A  R  A  M.  303 


The  moon  had  never  shed  a  hght 

So  clear  as  that  which  blessed  them  there ; 

The  roses  ne'er  shone  half  so  briofht. 
Nor  they  themselves  looked  half  so  fair. 

And  what  a  wilderness  of  flowers ' 

It  seemed  as  though  from  all  the  bowers 

And  fairest  fields  of  all  the  year. 

The  mingled  spoil  were  scattered  here. 

The  Lake,  too,  like  a  garden  breathes, 

With  the  rich  buds  that  o'er  it  lie, — 
As  if  a  shower  of  fairy  wTcaths 

Had  fallen  upon  it  from  the  sky ! 
And  then  the  sounds  of  joy, — the  beat 
Of  tabors  and  of  dancing  feet ; 
The  minaret-crier's  chant  of  glee 
Sung  from  his  lighted  gallery,'' 
And  answered  by  a  ziraleet 
From  neighbouring  Haram,  wild  and  sweet  ;- 
The  merry  laughter,  echoing 
From  gardens,  where  the  silken  swing'' 


"  « It  is  the  custom  among  the  women  to  employ  the  Maazeen  to  chant  from 
the  gallery  of  the  nearest  minaret,  which  on  that  occasion  is  ilhiminateil,  and 
the  women  assembled  at  the  house  respond  at  intervals  with  a  ziraleet  or  joyous 
chorus." — RufscU. 

b  "The  swing  is  a  favourite  pastime  in  the  East,  as  promoting  a  circulation 
of  air,  extremely  refreshing  in  those  sultry  climates." — Rirhardson. 

"The   swings   are   adorned  with  festoons.     This  pastime  is  accompanied 


804  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  H. 

Wafts  some  delighted  girl  above 

The  top  leaves  of  the  orange-grove ; 

Or,  from  those  infant  groups  at  play 

Among  the  tents  a  that  line  the  way, 

Flinging,  unawed  by  slave  or  mother, 

Handfuls  of  roses  at  each  other. — 
Then,  the  sounds  from  the  Lake, — the  low  whispering  in  boats. 
As  Jhey  shoot  through  the  moonlight ; — the  dipping  of  oars, 
And  the  wild,  airy  warbling  that  every  where  floats, 
Through  the  groves,  round  the  islands,  as  if  all  the  shores. 
Like  those  of  Kathay,  uttered  music,  and  gave 
An  answer  in  song  to  the  kiss  of  each  wave.'' 
But  the  gentlest  of  all  are  those  sounds  full  of  feeling. 
That  soft  from  the  lute  of  some  lover  are  stealing, — 
Some  lover,  who  knows  all  the  heart-touching  power 
Of  a  lute  and  a  sio-h  in  this  majrical  hour. 


with  music  of  voices  and  of  instruments,  hired  by  the  masters  of  the  swings." — 
Thevenot. 

a  "At  the  keeping  of  tlie  Feast  of  Roses  we  beheld  an  ii. finite  number  of 
tents  pitched,  with  such  a  crowd  of  men,  women,  boys,  and  girls,  with  music, 
dances,"  &c.  &c — Herbert. 

'5  "An  old  commentator  of  the  Cliou-King  says,  the  ancients  having  re- 
inarked  that  a  current  of  water  made  some  of  the  stones  near  its  banks  send 
forth  a  sound,  they  detached  some  of  them,  and  being  charmed  with  the  de- 
lightful sound  they  emitted,  constiucted  King  or  musical  instruments  of  them." 
—Grnsier. 

This  miraculous  quality  has  been  attributed  also  to  the  shore  of  Attica. 
"  Hujus  littus,  ait  Capclla,  concentum  musicum  illisis  terroe  un  lis  reddere,  quod 
propter  tantam  eruditionis  vim  puto  dictum." — Ludov.  lives,  in  Jlugustin.  dt 
'Hvitat.  Dei,  lib.  xviii.  c.  8. 


THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    H  A  R  A  M.  3oa 

0 !  best  of  delights,  as  it  everywhere  is, 

To  be  near  the  loved  One,  what  a  rapture  is  his 

Who  ill  moonlight  and  music  thus  sweetly  may  glide 

O'er  the  Lake  of  Cashmere,  with  that  One  by  his  side! 

If  woman  can  make  the  worst  wilderness  dear, 

Think,  think  what  a  Heaven  she  must  make  of  Cashmere  ! 

So  felt  the  magnificent  Son  of  Acbar,^ 
When  from  power  and  pomp  and  the  trophies  of  war 
He  flew  to  that  Valley,  forgetting  them  all, 
W^ith  the  Light  of  the  Haram,  his  young  Nourmahal. 
When  free  and  uncrowned  as  the  Conqueror  roved 
By  the  banks  of  that  Lake,  with  his  only  beloved, 
He  saw,  in  the  wreaths  she  would  playfully  snatch 
From  the  hedges,  a  glory  his  crown  could  not  match, 
And  preferred  in  his  heart  the  least  ringlet  that  curled 
Down  her  exquisite  neck  to  the  throne  of  the  world. 

There's  a  beauty,  for  ever  unchangingly  bright, 
Like  the  long,  sunny  lapse  of  a  summer- day's  light, 
Shining  on,  shining  on,  by  no  shadow^  made  tender, 
Till  Love  falls  asleep  in  its  sameness  of  splendour. 
This  was  not  the  beauty — 0,  nothing  like  this, 
That  to  young  Nourmahal  gave  such  magic  of  bliss ! 


»  Jehanguire  was  the  son  of  the  Great  Acbar. 
2  c  -J 


300  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  O  K  H. 

But  that  loveliness,  ever  in  motion,  which  plays 
Like  the  light  upon  autumn's  soft,  shadowy  days. 
Now  here  and  now  there,  giving  warmth  as  it  flies 
From  the  lip  to  the  cheek,  from  the  cheek  to  the  eyes ; 
Now  melting  in  mist  and  now  breaking  in  gleams, 
Like  the  glimpses  a  saint  hath  of  Heaven  in  his  dreams. 
When  pensive,  it  seemed  as  if  that  very  grace. 
That  charm  of  all  others,  w^as  born  with  her  face ! 
And  when  angry,' — for  ev'n  in  the  tranquillest  climes 
Light  breezes  will  ruffle  the  blossoms  sometimes, — 
The  short,  passing  anger  but  seemed  to  awaken 
New  beauty,  like  flowers  that  are  sweetest  when  shaken. 
If  tenderness  touched  her,  the  dark  of  her  eye 
At  once  took  a  darker,  a  heavenlier  dye, 
From  the  depth  of  whose  shadow,  like  holy  revealings 
From  innermost  shrines,  came  the  light  of  her  feelings. 
Then  her  mirth — O !  'twas  sportive  as  ever  took  wing 
From  the  heart  with  a  burst,  like  the  wild-bird  in  spring- 
Illumed  by  a  wit  that  would  fascinate  sages, 
Yet  playful  as  Peris  just  loosed  from  their  cages. ^ 
While  her  laugh,  full  of  life,  without  any  control 
But  the  sweet  one  of  gracefulness,  rung  from  her  soul ; 


1  In  the  wars  of  the  Dives  with  the  Peris,  whenever  the  former  took  the 
latter  prisoners,  "  they  shut  them  up  in  iron  cages,  and  hung  them  on  the 
highest  trees.  Here  they  were  visited  by  their  companions,  who  brought  them 
the  choicest  odours." — Fdchardson. 


THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    H  A  R  A  M.  307 

And  where  it  most  sparkled  no  glance  could  discover, 

In  lip,  cheek,  or  eyes,  for  she  brightened  all  over, — 

Like  any  fair  lake  that  the  breeze  is  upon. 

When  it  breaks  into  dimples  and  laughs  in  the  sun. 

Such,  such  were  the  peerless  enchantments,  that  gave 

NouRMAHAL  the  proud  Lord  of  the  East  for  her  slave  : 

And  though  bright  was  his  Haram, — a  living  parterre 

Of  the  flowers^  of  this  planet — though  treasures  were  there 

For  which  Soliman's  self  might  have  given  all  the  store, 

That  the  navy  from  Ophir  e'er  winged  to  his  shore, 

Yet  dim  before  her  were  the  smiles  of  them  all, 

And  the  Light  of  his  Haram  was  young  Nourmaiial  ! 

But  where  is  she  now,  this  night  of  joy, 

When  bliss  is  every  heart's  employ  ? — 

When  all  around  her  is  so  bright. 

So  like  the  visions  of  a  trance. 

That  one  might  think,  who  came  by  chance 

Lito  the  vale  this  happy  night. 

He  saw  that  City  of  Delight,^ 

In  Fairy-land,  whose  streets  and  towers 

Are  made  of  gems  and  light  and  flowers' 

Where  is  the  loved  Sultana  ?  where, 

When  mirth  brings  out  the  young  and  fair. 


»  In  the  Malay  language  the  same  word  signifies  women  and  flower* 
t  The  capital  of  tShadukiam.     See  note,  p.  174. 


308  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 


Does  she,  the  fairest,  hide  her  brow, 
In  melancholy  stillness  now  ? 

Alas ! — how  light  a  cause  may  move 

Dissension  between  hearts  that  love ! 

Hearts  that  the  world  in  vain  had  tried, 

And  sorrow  but  more  closely  tied  ; 

That  stood  the  storm,  when  waves  were  rough, 

Yet  in  a  sunny  hour  fall  off, 

Like  ships  that  have  gone  down  at  sea, 

When  heaven  was  all  tranquillity ! 

A  something,  light  as  air — a  look, 

A  word  unkind  or  wrongly  taken — 
0 !  love,  that  tempests  never  shook, 

A  breath,  a  touch  like  this  hath  shaken 
And  ruder  words  will  soon  rush  in 
To  spread  the  breach  that  words  begin ; 
And  eyes  forget  the  gentle  ray 
They  wore  in  courtship's  smiling  day, 
And  voices  lose  the  tone  that  shed 
A  tenderness  round  all  they  said ; 
Till  fast  declining,  one  by  one. 
The  sweetnesses  of  love  are  gone, 
And  hearts,  so  lately  mingled,  seem 
Like  broken  clouds, — or  like  the  stream, 
That  smiling  left  the  mountain's  brow, 

As  though  its  waters  ne'er  could  sever, 


THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    HARAM.  309 

Ye:,  ere  it  reach  the  plain  below, 

Brea]<s  into  floods,  that  part  for  ever. 

O,  you  that  have  the  charge  of  Love, 
•    Keep  him  in  rosy  bondage  bound. 
As  in  the  Fields  of  Bliss  above 

He  sits,  with  flowerets  fettered  round  ;" — 
Loose  not  a  tie  that  round  him  clings, 
Nor  ever  let  him  use  his  wings ; 
For  ev'n  an  hour,  a  minute's  flight 
Will  rob  the  plumes  of  half  their  light, 
Like  that  celestial  bird, — whose  nest 

Is  found  beneath  far  Eastern  skies, — 
Whose  wings,  though  radiant  when  at  rest, 

Lose  all  their  glory  when  he  flies ! '' 

Some  difference,  of  this  dangerous  kind, — 
By  which,  though  light,  the  links  that  bind 
The  fondest  hearts  may  soon  be  riven ; 
Some  shadow  in  Love's  summer  heaven, 
Which,  though  a  fleecy  speck  at  first, 
May  yet  in  awful  thunder  burst ; — 

a  See  the  representation  of  the  Eastern  Cupid,  pinioned  closely  round  with 
wreaths  of  flowers,  in  Picart's  Ceremonies  Religieuses. 

15  "Among  the  birds  of  Tonquin  is  a  species  of  goldfinch,  wiiich  sings  so 
melodiously  that  it  is  caUcd  the  Celestial  Bird.  Its  wings,  when  it  is  perched, 
appear  variegated  with  beautiful  colours,  but  when  it  flies  they  lose  all  their 
BDlendour." — Grosicr. 


310  LALLA    ROOKH. 

Such  cloud  It  is,  that  now  hangs  over 

The  heart  of  the  Imperial  Lover, 

And  far  hath  banished  from  his  sight 

His  NouRMAHAL,  his  Haram's  Light ! 

Hence  is  it,  on  this  happy  night, 

When  Pleasure  through  the  fields  and  groves 

Has  let  loose  all  her  world  of  loves, 

And  every  heart  has  found  its  own. 

He  wanders,  joyless  and  alone. 

And  weary  as  that  bird  of  Thrace, 

Whose  pinion  knows  no  resting-place.* 


In  vain  the  loveliest  cheeks  and  eyes 
This  Eden  of  the  Earth  supplies 

Come  crowding  round — the  cheeks  are  pale. 
The  eyes  are  dim  : — though  rich  the  spot 
With  every  flower  this  earth  has  got, 

What  is  it  to  the  nightingale. 
If  there  his  darling  rose  is  not  ?'' 
In  vain  the  Valley's  smiling  throng 
W^orship  him,  as  he  moves  along ; 


a  "  As  these  birds  on  the  Bosphorus  are  never  known  to  rest,  they  are  called 
by  the  French  '  les  ames  damnees.'  " — Dnlloway. 

''  «  You  may  place  a  hundred  handfuls  of  fragrant  herbs  and  flowers  before 
the  riightingale,  yet  he  wishes  not,  in  his  constant  heart,  for  more  than  the  sweet 
breath  of  his  beloved  rose."— /a«H'. 


T  H  E    L  I  G  H  T    O  F    T  H  E    n  A  R  A  M.  31 1 


He  lieeds  tliem  not — one  smile  of  hers 
Is  worth  a  world  of  worshippers. 
They  but  the  Star's  adorers  are, 
She  is  the  Heaven  that  liirhts  the  Star ! 


Hence  it  is,  too,  that  Nour^ahal, 
Amid  the  luxuries  of  this  hour. 
Far  from  the  joyous  festival, 

Sits  hi  her  own  sequestered  bower, 
With  no  one  near,  to  soothe  or  aid, 
But  that  insjured  and  wondrous  maid, 
Namouna,  the  Enchantress  : — one. 
O'er  whom  his  race  the  golden  sun 
For  unreraembered  years  has  run. 
Yet  never  saw  her  blooming  brow 
Younger  or  fairer  than  'tis  now. 
Nay,  rather, — as  the  west  wind's  sigh 
Freshens  the  flower  it  passes  by, 
Time's  wing  but  seemed,  in  stealing  o'er, 
To  leave  her  lovelier  than  before. 
Yet  on  her  smiles  a  sadness  hung, 
And  when,  as  oft,  she  spoke  or  sung 
Of  other  worlds,  there  came  a  light 
From  her  dark  eyes  so  strangely  bright. 
That  all  believed  nor  man  nor  earth 
Wp''e  conscious  of  Namouna's  birth  ' 


313  LALLAROOKH. 

All  spells  and  talismans  she  knew, 

From  the  great  Mantra,''  which  around 
The  Air's  sublimer  Spirits  drew, 

To  the  gold  gems*'  of  Afric,  bound 
Upon  the  wandering  Arab's  arm. 
To  keep  him  from  the  Siltim's"  harm. 
And  she  had  pledged  her  powerful  art, — 
Pledged  it  with  all  the  zeal  and  heart 
Of  one  who  knew,  though  high  her  sphere, 
What  'twas  to  lose  a  love  so  dear, — 
To  find  some  spell  that  should  recall 
Her  Selim's*^  smile  to  Nourmaiial! 

'Twas  midnight — through  the  lattice,  wreathed 

With  woodbine,  many  a  perfume  breathed 

From  plants  that  wake  when  others  sleep, 

From  timid  jasmine  buds,  that  keep 

Their  odour  to  themselves  all  day, 

But  when  the  sunlight  dies  away. 

Let  the  delicious  secret  out 

To  every  breeze  that  roams  about ; — 


«  "  He  is  said  to  have  found  the  great  Mantra,  spell  or  talisman,  through 
which  he  ruled  over  the  elements  and  spirits  of  all  denominations." —  vVilford. 

^  "The  gold  jewrels  of  Jinnie,  which  are  called  by  the  Arabs  E  Herrez, 
hrom  the  supposed  charm  they  contain." — Jackson. 

c « A  demon,  supposed  to  haunt  woods,  &c.,  in  a  human  shape."— 
(ticJun-dson,. 

^  The  name  of  Jehanguire  before  his  accession  to  the  throne. 


THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    H  A  R  A  M.  ii^?. 


When  thus  Namouna  : — "  'Tis  the  hour 

•  That  scatters  spells  on  herb  and  flower, 

"And  garlands  might  be  gathered  now, 

"  That,  twined  around  the  sleeper's  brow, 

"  Would  make  him  dream  of  such  delights, 

"  Such  miracles  and  dazzling  sights, 

"  As  Genii  of  the  Sun  behold, 

"At  evening,  from  their  tents  of  gold 

"  Upon  th'  horizon — where  they  play 

"  Till  twilight  comes,  and,  ray  by  ray, 

"Their  sunny  mansions  melt  away. 

"Now,  too,  a  chaplet  might  be  wreathed 

"  Of  buds  o'er  which  the  moon  has  breathed, 

"Which  worn  by  her,  whose  love  has  strayed, 

"  Might  bring  some  Peri  from  the  skies, 
"  Some  sprite,  whose  very  soul  is  made 

"  Of  flowerets'  breaths  and  lovers'  sighs, 

"And  who  might  tell " 

"  For  me,  for  me," 
Cried  Nourmahal  impatiently, — 
"  0  !  twine  that  wreath  for  me  to-night." 
'1  hen,  rapidly,  with  foot  as  light 
As  the  young  musk- roe's,  out  she  flew. 
To  cull  each  shining  leaf  that  grew 
Beneath  the  moonlight's  hallowing  beams, 
For  this  enchanted  Wreath  of  Dreams. 

2D 


Si4  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  0  K  11. 

Anemones  and  Seas  of  Gold,'' 

And  new-blown  lilies  of  the  mxr, 
And  those  sweet  flowerets,  that  unfold 

Their  buds  on  Camadeva's  quiver;'' 
The  tube-rose,  with  her  silvery  light. 

That  in  the  Gardens  of  Malay 
Is  called  the  Mistress  of  the  Night,*" 
So  like  a  bride,  scented  and  bright, 

She  comes  out  when  the  sun's  away ; 
Amaranths,  such  as  crown  the  maids 
That  wander  through  Zamara's  shades;'' — 
And  the  white  moon-flower,  as  it  shows. 
On  Serendib's  high  crags,  to  those 
Who  near  the  isle  at  evening  sail, 
Scenting  her  clove-trees  in  the  gale ; 
In  short,  all  flowerets  and  all  plants, 

From  the  Divine  Amrita  tree,^ 


a  « Hemasagara,  or  the  Sea  of  Gold,  with  flowers  of  the  brightest  gold 
colour." — Sir  W.  Jones. 

b  "  This  tree  (the  Nagacesara)  is  one  of  the  most  delightful  on  earth,  and 
the  delicious  odour  of  its  blossoms  justly  gives  them  a  place  in  the  quiver  of 
Camadeva,  or  the  God  of  Love." — Id. 

c  « The  Malayans  style  the  tube-rose  (Polianthes  tuberosa)  Sandal  Malam, 
or  the  Mistress  of  the  Night." — Pcmmnl. 

d  The  people  of  the  Batta  country  in  Sumatra,  (of  which  Zamara  is  one 
of  the  ancient  names,)  "when  not  engaged  in  war,  lead  an  idle,  inactive  hfe, 
passing  the  day  in  playing  on  a  kind  of  flute,  crowred  with  garlands  of  flowers, 
among  which  the  globe-amaranthus,  a  native  of  the  country,  mostly  prevails." — 
Marsden. 

e  "The  largest  and  richest  sort  (of  the  Jambu  or  rose-apple)  is  called  Am- 


H"AM(D)lDrS"Ac 


-Iher  glance 
Spoke  somettdng,  past  all  niort^I  yilee.yijte^ 
As,  in  a  kind  of  holy  trai     ■ 


T  H  E    L  I  G  H  T    O  F    T  H  E    H  A  R  A  M.  315 

That  blesses  heaven's  inhabitants 

With  fruits  of  immortaUty, 
Down  to  the  basil  tuft/'  that  waves 
Its  fragrant  blossom  over  graves, 

And  to  the  humble  rosemary, 
Whose  sweets  so  thanklessly  are  shed 
To  scent  the  desert"  and  the  dead — 
,  All  in  that  garden  bloom,  and  all 
Are  gathered  by  young  Nourmahal, 
Who  heaps  her  baskets  with  the  flowers 

And  leaves,  till  they  can  hold  no  more ; 
Then  to  Namouna  flies,  and  showers 

Upon  her  lap  the  shining  store. 
With  what  delight  th'  Enchantress  views 
So  many  buds,  bathed  with  the  dews 
And  beams  of  that  blessed  hour ! — her  glance 

Spoke  something,  past  all  mortal  pleasures, 
As,  in  a  kind  of  holy  trance. 

She  hung  above  those  fragrant  treasures, 


V 

rlla,  or  immortaJ,  and  the  mythologists  of  Tibet  apply  the  same  word  to  a  celes- 
tial tree,  bearing  ambrosial  fruit." — Sir  W.  Jones. 

a  Sweet  basil,  called  Rayhan  in  Persia,  and  generally  found  in  churchyards, 

"  The  women  in  Egypt  go,  at  least  two  days  in  the  week,  to  pray  and  weep 

«t  the  sepulchres  of  the  dead ;  and  the  custom  then  is  to  throw  upon  the  tombs 

a  sort  of  herb,  which  the  Arabs  call  riuhu,  and  which  is  our  sweet  basil." — 

Maillet,  Lett.  10. 

^  ''In  the  Great  Desert  arc  found  many  stalks  of  lavender  and  rosemary  '— 
v5siAt>  Jies, 


316  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

Bending  to  drink  their  balmy  airs, 
As  if  she  mixed  her  soul  with  theirs. 
And  'twas,  indeed,  the  perfume  shed 
From  flowers  and  scented  flame,  that  feu 
Her  charmed  life — for  none  had  e'er 
Beheld  her  taste  of  mortal  fare. 
Nor  ever  in  aught  earthly  dip, 
But  the  morn's  dew,  her  roseate  lip. 
Filled  with  the  cool,  inspiring  smell, 
Th'  Enchantress  now  begins  her  spell, 
Thus  singing  as  she  winds  and  weaves, 
In  mystic  form  the  glittering  leaves  : — 


I  know  where  the  winged  visions  dwell 

That  around  the  night-bed  play ; 
I  know  each  herb  and  floweret's  belL, 
Where  they  hide  their  wings  by  day. 
Then  hasten  we,  maid, 
To  twine  our  braid  ; 
To-morrow  the  dreams  and  flow-ers  will  fade. 

The  image  of  love,  that  nightly  flies 

To  visit  the  bashful  maid, 
Steals  from  the  jasmine  flower,  that  sighs 

Its  soul,  like  her,  in  the  shade. 


THE    I,  I  G  H  '!•    OF    T  11  E    H  A  R  A  M.  2.\^ 

The  dream  of  a  future,  happier  hour. 

That  ahghts  on  misery's  brow, 
Sprmgs  out  of  the  silvery  ahnond  flower. 
That  blooms  on  a  leafless  bough. ^ 
Then  hasten  we,  maid. 
To  twine  our  braid ; 

To-morrow  the  dreams  and  flowers  will  fade. 

« 

The  visions,  that  oft  to  worldly  eyes 

The  glitter  of  mines  unfold. 
Inhabit  the  mountain-herb,^  that  dyes 

The  toodi  of  the  fawn  like  gold. 
The  phantom  shapes — 0  touch  not  them — 

That  appal  the  murderer's  sight. 
Lurk  in  the  fleshy  mandrake's  stem, 

That  shrieks,  when  plucked  at  night! 


a  "The  almond-tree,  with  white  flowers,  blossoms  on  the  l)arc  branches." — 
Ilassdqtdst. 

^  An  herb  on  ]\Iount  Libanus,  which  is  said  to  communicate  a  yellow,  golden 
hue  to  the  teeth  of  the  goats  and  other  animals  that  graze  upon  it. 

Niebuhr  thinks  this  may  be  the  herb  which  the  Eastern  alchymists  look  to 
as  a  means  of  making  gold.  «  Most  of  those  alchymical  enthusiasts  think  them- 
selves sure  of  success,  if  they  could  but  find  out  the  herb,  which  gilds  the  teeth 
and  gives  a  yellow  colour  to  the  flesh  of  the  sheep  that  eat  it.  Even  the  oil  of 
this  plant  must  be  of  a  golden  colour.     It  is  called  Huschisrhat  cd  dab." 

Father  Jerom  Dandini,  however,  asserts  that  the  teeth  of  the  goats  at  Mount 
Libanus  are  of  a  silver  colour ;  and  adds,  « this  confirms  to  me  that  which  I  oI>- 
served  in  Candia;  to  wit,  that  the  animals  that  live  on  Mount  Ida  eat  a  certain 
herb,  which  renders  their  teeth  of  a  golden  colour ;  which,  according  to  my 
judgment,  cannot  otherwise  proceed  than  from  the  mines  which  arc  undet 
groimd." — Dandini,  Voyage  to  Mount  Libanus. 

2  D  2 


31S  ^  ALL  A    KO  OK  II 

Then  hasten  we,  maid, 
To  twine  our  braid ; 
To-morrow  the  dreams  and  flowers  will  fade. 


The  dream  of  the  injured,  patient  mind, 

That  smiles  at  the  wrongs  of  men, 
Is  found  in  the  bruised  and  wounded  rind 
Of  the  cinnamon,  sweetest  then. 
Then  hasten  we,  maid, 
To  twine  our  braid ; 
To-morrow  the  dreams  and  flowers  will  fade. 


No  sooner  was  the  flowery  crown 
Placed  on  her  head,  than  sleep  came  down, 
Gently  as  nights  of  summer  fall. 
Upon  the  lids  of  Nourmahal  ; — 
And,  suddenly,  a  tuneful  breeze, 
As  full  of  small,  rich  harmonies 
As  ever  wind,  that  o'er  the  tents 
Of  AzAB  ^  blew,  was  full  of  scents, 
Steals  on  her  ear,  and  floats  and  swells, 
Like  the  first  air  of  morning  creeping 

a  The  myrrh  country. 


THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    H  A  R  A  M.  ■H^J 

Into  those  wreaihy,  Red-Sea  shells, 

Where  LoA'e  himself,  of  old,  lay  sleeping;* 

And  now  a  Spirit  formed,  'twould  seem 
Of  music  and  of  light, — so  fair 

So  brilliantly  his  features  beam, 
And  such  a  sound  is  in  the  air 

Of  sweetness  when  he  waves  his  wings, — 

Hovers  around  her,  and  thus  sings : — 


From  Chindara's^  warbling  fount  I  come, 

Called  by  that  moonlight  garland's  spell ; 
From  Chindara's  foilnt,  my  fairy  home, 

Where  in  music,  morn  and  night,  I  dwell. 
Where  lutes  in  the  air  are  heard  about, 

And  voices  are  singing  the  whole  day  long, 
And  every  sigh  the  heart  breathes  out 

Is  turned,  as  it  leaves  the  lips,  to  song  ! 
Hither  I  come 
From  my  fairy  home, 

And  if  thL"ie's  a  magic  in  Music's  strain, 


"  "This  idea  (of  deities  living:  in  shells)  was  not  unknown  to  the  Greeks, 
who  represent  the  young  Nerites,  one  of  the  Cupids,  as  living  in  sliells  on  the 
shores  of  the  Red  Sea." — Wilford. 

*  "A  fabulous  fountain,  where  instruments  are  said  to  be  constsntiy  play- 
jig:." — Rldiardann. 


320  L  A  L  L  A    K  O  0  K  II. 

I  swear  by  the  breath 
Of  that  moonlight  wreath, 
Thy  Lover  shall  sigh  at  thy  feet  again. 


For  mine  is  the  lay  that  lightly  floats, 
And  mine  are  the  murmuring,  dying  notes, 
That  fall  as  soft  as  snow  on  the  sea, 
And  melt  in  the  heart  as  instantly : — 
And  the  passionate  strain  that,  deeply  going, 

Refines  the  bosom  it  trembles  through. 
As  the  musk-wind,  over  the  water  blowing, 

Ruffles  the  wave,  but  sweetens  it  too. 


Mine  is  the  charm,  whose  mystic  sway 

The  Spirits  of  past  Delight  obey ; — 

Let  but  the  tuneful  talisman  sound. 

And  they  come,  like  Genii,  hovering  round. 

And  mine  is  the  gentle  song  that  bears. 

From  soul  to  soul,  the  wishes  of  love. 
As  a  bird,  that  wafts  through  genial  airs 

The  cinnamon-seed  from  grove  to  grove.* 


a  "The  Pompadour  pigeon  is  the  species,  which,  by  caiTying  the  fruit  of  tlie 
onnamon  to  diflerent  places,  is  a  great  disseminator  of  this  valuable  tree.'  — See 
Browns  IDustr.  Tab.  19. 


THE    LIGHT    OF    T  HE    H  A  R  A  M.  321 

'Tis  I  that  mingle  in  one  sweet  measure 

The  past,  the  present,  and  future  of  pleasure;* 

When  Memory  links  the  tone  that  is  gone 

With  the  blissful  tone  that's  still  in  the  ear ; 
And  Hope  from  a  heavenly  note  flies  on 

To  a  note  more  heavenly  still  that  is  near. 

The  warrior's  heart,  when  touched  by  me, 

Can  as  downy  soft  and  as  yielding  be 

As  his  own  v/hite  plume,  that  high  amid  death 

Through   the  field   has   shone — yet   moves  with   a 

breath ! 
And  0,  how  the  eyes  of  Beauty  glisten. 

When  music  lias  reached  her  inward  soul, 
Like  the  silent  stars,  that  wink  and  listen 

While  Heaven's  eternal  melodies  roll! 


^  "  Whenever  our  pleasure  arises  from  a  succession  of  sounds,  it  is  a  per- 
ception of  a  complicated  nature,  made  up  of  a  sensation  of  the  present  sounds 
or  note,  and  an  idea  or  remembrance  of  the  foregoing,  while  their  mixture  and 
concurrence  produce  such  a  mysterious  delight,  as  neither  could  have  produced 
alone.  And  it  is  often  hcightenrd  by  an  anticipation  of  the  succeeding  notes. 
Thus  Sense,  Memory,  and  Imagination,  are  conjunctively  employed." — Gcrrurd 
on  Taste. 

This  is  exactly  the  Epicurean  theory  of  Pleasure,  as  explained  by  Cicero. 
— "Quocirca  corpus  gaudere  tamdiu,  dum  prsesentem  sentiret  voluptatem:  ani- 
mum  et  prcescntem  percipere  paritor  cum  corpore  et  prospicere  venicntem,  nee 
prfBteritam  pricterflucre  sinere." 

Madame  de  Stat'l  accounts  upon  the  same  principle  for  the  gratification  we 
derive  from  rhyme: — "Elle  est  rimagc  de  fcsperancc  et  du  souvenir.  Un  son 
nous  fait  desircr  cclui  qui  doit  lui  repondre,  ct  quand  le  second  retcntit  il  nous 
rappelle  celui  qi;i  vient  do  nous  echapper." 


323  LVLLA    ROOKH. 

So,  hither  I  come 

From  my  fairy  home, 
And  if  there's  a  magic  in  Music  s  strain, 

I  swear  by  the  breath 

Of  that  moonhght  wreath. 
Thy  Lover  shall  sigh  at  thy  feet  again. 


'Tis  dawn — at  least  that  earlier  dawn, 
Whose  glimpses  are  again  withdrawn,^  • 
As  if  the  morn  had  waked,  and  then 
Shut  close  her  lids  of  light  again. 
And  NouRiNiAHAL  is  up,  and  trying 

The  wonders  of  her  lute,  whose  strings 
0  bliss! — now  murmur  like  the  sighing 

From  that  ambrosial  Spirit's  wings. 


"  "  The  Persians  have  two  mornings,  the  Soohhi  Kazim  and  the  Soobhi 
ba-Jig,  the  false  and  the  real  daybreak.  They  account  for  this  phenomenon  in 
a  most  whimsical  manner.  They  say  that  as  the  sun  rises  fi:om  beliind  the 
Kohi  Qaf,  (Mount  Caucasus,)  it  passes  a  hole  perforated  through  that  moun- 
tain, and  that  darting  its  rays  through  it,  it  is  the  cause  of  the  Soobhi  Kazim.  or 
this  temporary  appearance  of  daybreak.  As  it  ascends,  the  earth  is  again  veiled 
in  darkness,  until  the  sun  rises  above  the  mountain,  and  brings  with  it  the 
Soobhi  Sadig,  or  real  morning." — Scott  Waring.  He  thinks  Milton  may  allude 
to  this,  when  he  says, — 

"  Ere  the  blabbing  Eastern  scout, 

The  nice  morn  on  the  Indian  steep 

From  her  cabined  loop-hole  peep." 


THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    HAR4M.  ;v2t^ 

And  then,  her  A'oice — 'tis  more  tlian  human — 

Never,  till  now,  had  it  been  given 
To  lips  of  any  mortal  woman 

To  utter  notes  so  fresn  from  heaven ; 
Sweet  as  the  breath  of  anofel  si^hs. 

When  angel  sighs  are  most  divine. — 
"  0 !  let  it  last  till  night,"  she  cries, 

"  And  he  is  more  than  ever  mine." 
And  hourly  she  renews  the  lay. 

So  fearful  lest  its  heavenly  sweetness 
Should,  ere  the  evening,  fade  away, — 

For  things  so  heavenly  have  such  fleetness. 
But,  far  from  fading,  it  but  grows 
Richer,  diviner  as  it  flows : 
Till  rapt  she  dwells  on  every  string. 

And  pours  again  each  sound  along. 
Like  Echo,  lost  and  languishing, 

In  love  with  her  own  wondrous  song. 

That  evening,  (trusting  that  his  soul 
Might  be  from  haunting^  love  released 

By  mirth,  by  music,  and  the  bowl,) 
Th'  Imperial  Selim  held  a  least 

In  his  magnificent  Shalimar ;  "■ — 

In  whose  saloons,  when  the  first  star 

8  "  In  the  centre  of  the  plain,  as  it  approaches  the  Lake,  one  of  the  Delhi 
Emperors,  I  beHcve  Shah  Jchan,  constructed  a  spacious  garden  called  the  Shali- 


.jg4  LALLA    ROOKH. 

Of  evening  o'er  the  waters  trembled, 
The  Valley's  loveliest  all  assembled ; 
All  the  bright  creatures  that,  like  dreams, 
Glide  through  its  foliage,  and  drink  beams 
Of  beauty  from  its  founts  and  streams;" 
And  all  those  wandering  minstrel-maids, 
"Who  leave — how  caii  they  leave  ? — the  shades 
Of  that  dear  Valley,  and  are  found 

Singing  in  gardens  of  the  South" 
Those  songs,  that  ne'er  so  sweetly  sound 

As  from  a  young  Cashmerian's  mouth. 


uiar,  which  is  abundantly  stored  with  fruit-trees  and  flowering  shrubs.  Some 
of  the  rivulets  which  intersect  the  plain  are  led  into  a  canal  at  the  hack  ci"  the 
garden,  and  flowing  through  its  centre,  or  occasionally  thrown  into  a  variety 
of  water-works,  compose  the  chief  beauty  of  the  Shalimar.  To  decorate  this 
spot  the  Mogul  Princes  of  India  have  displayed  an  equal  magnificence  and 
taste ;  especially  Jehan  Gheer,  who,  with  the  enchanting  Noor  Mahl,  made 
Kashmire  his  usual  residence  during  the  summer  months.  On  arches  thrown 
OT'er  the  canal  are  erected,  at  equal  distances,  four  or  five  suites  of  apartments, 
each  consisting  of  a  saloon,  with  four  rooms  at  the  angles,  where  the  followers 
of  the  court  attend,  and  the  servants  prepare  sherbets,  coffee,  and  the  hookah. 
The  fi-ame  of  the  doors  of  the  principal  saloon  is  composed  of  pieces  of  a  stone 
of  a  black  colour,  streaked  with  yellow  lines,  and  of  a  closer  giain  and 
higher  polish  than  porphyry.  They  were  taken,  it  is  said,  fiom  a  Hindoo 
temple,  by  one  of  the  Mogul  princes,  and  are  esteemed  of  great  value." — 
Forster. 

a  «  The  waters  of  Cachemir  are  the  more  renowned  from  its  being  supposed 
that  the  Cachemirians  are  indebted  for  their  beauty  to  them." — m  Yezdi. 

^  "From  him  I  received  the  following  little  Gazzel,  or  Love  Song,  the  notes 
of  which  he  committed  to  paper  from  the  voice  of  one  of  those  singing  girls  of 
Cashmere,  who  wander   from   that   delightful  valley  over   the    various   pa'' 
of  India." — Persian  Miscellanies. 


THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    H  A  R  A  M.  335 

There,  too,  the  Haram's  inmates  smile ; — 

Maids  from  tlie  West,  with  sunbright  hair, 
And  from  the  garden  of  the  Nile, 

Delicate  as  the  roses  there ; "" — 
Daughters  of  Love  from  Cyprus'  rocks, 
With  Paphian  diamonds  in  their  locks  ;  *" — 
Lisfht  Peri  forms,  such  as  there  are 
On  the  gold  meads  of  Candahar  ;  ° 
And  they,  before  whose  sleepy  eyes, 

In  dieir  own  bright  Kathaian  bowers. 
Sparkle  such  rainbow  butterflies. 

That  they  might  fancy  the  rich  flowers. 
That  round  them  in  the  sun  lay  sighing, 
Had  been  by  magic  all  set  flying.'' 

Every  thing  young,  every  thing  fair 
From  East  and  West  is  blushing  there, 


a  «  The  roses  of  the  Jinan  Nile,  or  Garden  of  the  Nile,  (attached  to  the 
Emperor  of  Marocco's  palace,)  are  unequalled,  and  mattresses  are  made  of  their 
leaves  for  the  men  of  rank  to  recline  upon." — Jackson. 

^  "  On  the  side  of  a  mountain  near  Paphos  there  is  a  cavern  whicli  produces 
the  most  beautiful  rock-crystal.  On  account  of  its  brilliancy  it  has  been  called 
the  Paphian  diamond." — Marili. 

c  «  There  is  a  part  of  Candahar,  called  Peria,  or  Fairy  Land." — Thcvcnot. 
In  some  of  those  countries  to  the  north  of  India,  vegetaole  gold  is  supposed  to 
be  produced. 

d  «  These  are  the  butterflies  which  are  called  in  the  Chinese  language  Flying 
Leaves.  Some  of  them  have  such  shining  colours,  and  are  so  variegated,  that 
tlicy  may  be  called  flying  flowers ;  and  indeed  they  are  always  produced  in  the 
finest  aower-gardeusi." — Dauiu 


52n  L  A  L  L  A    r.  9  O  K  H. 

Except — except — 0,  Nuuhmahal! 
Thou  loveliest,  dearest  of  them  all, 
The  one,  whose  smile  shone  out  alone. 
Amidst  a  world  the  only  one  ; 
Whose  light,  among  so  many  lights, 
Was  like  that  star,  on  starry  nights, 
The  seaman  singles  from  the  sky. 
To  steer  his  bark  for  ever  by ! 
Thou  W'Crt  not  there — so  Selim  thought. 

And  every  thing  seemed  drear  without  thee  j 
But,  ah !  thou  wert,  thou  wert,  and  brought 

Thy  Charm  of  song  all  fresh  about  thee. 
Mingling  unnoticed  wdth  a  band 
Of  lutanists  from  many  a  land. 
And  veiled  by  such  a  ma&k  as  shades 
The  features  of  young  Arab  maids,"" — 
A  mask  that  leaves  but  one  eye  free, 
To  do  its  best  in  wdtchery, — 
She  roved,  with  beating  heart,  around. 

And  waited,  trembling,  for  the  minute. 
When  she  might  try  if  still  the  sound 

Of  her  loved  lute  had  magic  in  it. 

The  board  was  spread  wiib  fruits  and  wine , 
With  grapes  of  gold,  like  those  that  shine 

"  "The  Arabian  women  wear  bla^k  masks  with  little  clasps  prettily  orilered.* 
-Carre)  i.     Nicbuhr  mentiona  their  showing  but  one  eye  in  conversation. 


T  H  E    L  I  G  H  T    (^  F    T  H  E    H  A  R  A  M.  327 

On  Casein's  hills  ;" — pomegranates  full 

Of  melting  sweetness,  and  the  pears, 
And  sunniest  apples,^  that  Caubul, 

In  all  its  thousand  gardens,"  bears : — 
Plantains,  the  golden  and  the  green, 
Malaya's  nectared  raangusteen  ;  ^ 
Prunes  of  Bokara,  and  sweet  nuts 

From  the  far  groves  of  Samarcand, 
And  Basra  dates,  and  apricots, 

Seed  of  the  Sun,''  from  Iran's  land  ; 
With  rich  conserve  of  Visna  cherries, "^ 
Of  orange  flowers,  and  of  those  berries 
That,  v/ild  and  fresh,  the  young  gazelles 
Feed  on  in  Erac's  rocky  dells. ^ 
All  these  in  richest  vases  smile. 

In  baskets  of  pure  santal-wood, 


a  "The  golden  grapes  of  Casbin." — Description  of  Persia. 

*>  «  The  fruits  exported  from  Caubul  are  apples,  pears,  pomegranates,"  &,c. — 
Elphinstone. 

c  "  We  sat  down  under  a  tree,  listened  to  the  birds,  and  talked  with  the  son 
of  our  Mehmaundar  about  our  country  and  Caubul,  of  which  he  gave  an 
enchanting  account ;  that  city  and  its  hundred  thousand  gardens,"  &c.  -  Id. 

d  "The  mangusteen,  the  most  delicate  fiuit  in  the  world;  the  pride  of  the 
Malay  islands." — Marsdcn. 

s  "  A  delicious  kind  of  apricot,  called  by  the  Persians  tokm-ek-shcms,  signify- 
ing sun's  seed." — Description  of  Persia. 

f  "  Sweetmeats,  in  a  crystal  cup,  consisting  of  rose-leaves  in  conserve,  with 
lemon  of  Visna  cherry,  orange  flowers,"  &c. — BusscU. 

g"  Antelopes  cropping  the  fresh  berries  of  Erac." — The  Moallukat,  I'ocm 
of  Tarafa. 


32S  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  O  K  F. 

And  urns  of  porcelain  from  that  isle," 
Sunk  underneath  the  Indian  flood, 
Whence  oft  the  lucky  diver  brings 
Vases  to  grace  the  halls  of  kings. 
Wines,  too,  of  every  clime  and  hue, 
Around  their  liquid  lustre  threw  ;-^ 
Amber  Rosolli," — the  bright  dew 
From  vineyards  of  the  Green-Sea  gushing," 
And  Shiraz  wine,  that  richly  ran 

As  if  that  jewel,  large  and  rare. 
The  ruby  for  which  Kublai-Khan 
Offered  a  city's  wealth,''  was  blushing 
INIelted  within  the  goblets  there ! 

And  amply  Selim  quaffs  of  each. 

And  seems  resolved  the  flood  shall  reach 

His  inward  heart, — shedding  around 

A  genial  deluge,  as  they  run. 
That  soon  shall  leave  no  spot  undrowned, 

For  Love  to  rest  his  wings  upon. 


a  Mauri-ga-Sima,  an  island  near  Formosa,  supposed  to  have  been  sunk  in 
the  sea  for  the  crimes  of  its  inhabitants.  The  vessels  which  the  fishermen  and 
divers  bring  up  from  it  are  sold  at  an  immense  price  in  China  and  Japan. — 
See  Kempfcr. 

^  Persian  Talcs. 

<=  The  white  wine  of  Kishma. 

<i  "  The  King  of  Zeilan  is  said  to  have  the  very  finest  ruby  that  was  ever 
seen.  Kublai-Khan  sent  and  offered  the  value  of  a  city  for  it,  but  the  King 
answered  he  would  not  give  it  for  the  treasure  of  the  world." — Marco  FoU>. 


THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    H  A  R  A  M.  229 


He  little  knew  how  well  the  boy- 
Can  float  upon  the  goblet's  streams, 

Lighting  them  with  his  smile  of  joy  ; — 
As  bards  have  seen  him  in  their  dreams, 

Down  the  blue  Ganges  laughing  glide 
Upon  a  rosy  lotus  w'reath,* 

Catching  new  lustre  from  the  tide 
That  with  his  image  shone  beneath. 

But  what  are  cups,  without  the  aid 

Of  song  to  speed  them  as  they  flow  ? 
And  see — a  lovely  Georgian  maid. 

With  all  the  bloom,  the  freshened  glow 
Of  her  own  country  maidens'  looks. 
When  warm  they  rise  from  Teflis'  brooks,''- 
And  with  an  eye,  whose  restless  ray. 

Full,  floating,  dark — 0,  he,  who  knows 
His  heart  is  weak,  of  Heaven  should  pray 

To  guard  him  from  such  eyes  as  those ! — 
With  a  voluptuous  wildness  flings 
Her  snowy  hand  a(;ross  the  strings 
Of  a  syrinda,''  and  thus  sings  :  — 


a  The  Indians  feign  that  Cupid  was  first  seen  floating  down  the  Ganges  on 
the  Nymphiea  Nelumbo. — See  Pennant. 

^  Teflis  is  celeoratcd  for  its  natural  warm  baths. — See  Ebn  Haukai. 
c  "The  Indian  Syrinda,  or  guitar." — Sijmcz. 

2E2 


330  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

Come  hither,  come  hither ;   oy  night  and  hy  day, 
We  linger  in  pleasures  that  never  are  gone  ; 

Like  the  waves  of  the  summer,  as  one  dies  away, 
Another  as  sweet  and  as  shining  comes  on. 

And  the  love  that  is  o'er,  in  expiring,  gives  birth 
To  a  new  one  as  warm,  as  unequalled  in  bliss ; 

And,  0,  if  there  be  an  Elysium  on  earth. 
It  is  this,  it  is  this/ 

Here  maidens  are  sighing,  and  fragrant  their  sigh 
As  the  flower  of  the  Amra  just  oped  by  a  bee ;'' 

And  precious  their  tears  as  that  rain  from  the  sky,"^ 
Which  turns  into  pearls  as  it  falls  in  the  sea. 

0 !  think  what  the  kiss  and  the  smile  must  be  worth 
When  the  sigh  and  the  tear  are  so  perfect  in  bli?^. 

And  own,  if  there  be  an  Elysium  on  earth, 
It  is  this,  it  is  this. 

Here  sparkles  the  nectar,  that,  hallowed  by  love. 

Could  draw^  down  those  angels  of  old  from  their  sphere, 


a  «  Around  the  exterior  of  the  Dewan  Khafs  (a  building  of  Shah  Alhim's) 
ill  the  cornice  are  the  following  lines,  in  letters  of  gold  upon  a  ground  of 
white  marble — '  If  there  be  a  paradise  tipon  earth,  it  is  this,  it  is  this.'  " — 
Franklin. 

^  "  Delightful  are  the  flowers  of  the  Amra  trees  on  the  mountain  tops, 
wliile  the  murmuring  oees  pursue  their  voluptuous  toil." — Song  of  Jayadeva. 

c  "  The  Nisan,  or  drops  of  spring  rain,  whi^h  they  believe  to  prouuce  pearls 
if  they  fill  into  shells." — Richardson. 


THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    H  A  R  A  M.  33i 

Who  for  wine  of  this  eavtli''  left  the  fountains  above, 
And  forgot  heaven's  stars  for  the  eyes  we  have  here. 

And,  blessed  with  the  odoui  our  goblet  gives  forth, 
"What  Spirit  the  sweets  c!^  his  Eden  would  miss  ? 

For,  0  !  if  there  be  an  Elysium  on  earth, 
It  is  this,  it  is  this. 


The  Georgian's  song  w^as  scarcely  mute. 

When  the  same  measure,  sound  for  sound, 
Was  caught  up  by  anodier  lute. 

And  so  divinely  bicathed  around. 
That  all  stood  hushed  and  wondering. 

And  turned  and  looked  into  the  air. 
As  if  they  thought  to  see  the  wing 

Of  IsRAFiL,^  the  Angel,  there  ; — 
So  powerfully  on  every  soul 
That  new,  enchajited  measure  stole. 
While  now  a  voice,  sweet  as  the  note 
Of  the  charmed  lute,  v/as  heard  to  float 
Along  its  chords,  and  so  entwine 

Its  sounds  with  theirs,  that  none  knew  whether 
The  voice  or  lute  was  most  divine, 

So  wondrously  they  went  together : — 


»  For  an  account  of  the  share  which  wine  had  in  the  fall  of  the  angels,  see  il/oriii 
b  The  Angel  of  Music.     See  note,  y.  274. 


333  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

There's  a  bliss  beyond  all  that  the  minstrel  has  told, 
"When  two,  that  are  linked  in  one  heavenly  tie, 

With  heart  never  changing,  and  brow  never  cold, 
Love  on  through  all  ills,  and  love  on  till  they  die ! 

One  hour  of  a  passion  so  sacred  is  worth 

Whole  ages  of  heartless  and  wandering  bliss  ; 

And,  0 !  if  there  be  an  Elysium  on  earth, 
It  is  this,  it  is  this. 


'Twas  not  the  air,  'twas  not  the  words, 
But  that  deep  magic  in  the  chords 
And  in  the  lips,  that  gave  such  power 
As  Music  knew  not  till  that  hour. 
At  once  a  hundred  voices  said, 
"  It  is  the  maiked  Arabian  maid !" 
While  Selii-i,  who  had  felt  the  strain 
Deepest  of  any,  and  had  lain 
Some  minutes  rapt,  as  in  a  trance. 

After  the  fairy  sounds  were  o'er. 
Too  inly  touched  for  utterance. 

Now  motioned  with  his  hand  for  more : — 


Fly  to  the  desert,  fly  with  me : 
Our  Arab  tents  are  rude  for  thee; 


THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    H  A  R  A  M.  333 

But,  0  !  the  choice  what  heart  can  doub*, 
Of  tents  with  love,  or  thrones  without  ? 

Our  rocks  are  rough,  but  smi4ing  there 
Th'  acacia  waves  her  yellow  hair. 
Lonely  and  sweet,  nor  loved  the  less 
For  flowering  in  a  wilderness. 

Our  sands  are  bare,  but  down  their  slope 
The  silvery-footed  antelope 
As  gracefully  and  gayly  springs 
As  o'er  the  marble  courts  of  kings. 

Then  come — thy  Arab  maid  will  be 
The  loved  and  lone  acacia-tree, 
The  antelope,  whose  feet  shall  bless 
With  their  light  sound  thy  loneliness. 

0  !  there  are  looks  and  tones  that  dart 
An  instant  sunshine  through  the  heart, — 
As  if  the  soul  that  minute  caught 
Some  treasure  it  through  life  had  sought  '-— 

As  if  the  very  lips  and  eyes, 
Predestined  to  have  all  our  sighs, 
And  never  be  forgot  again, 
Sparkled  and  spoke  before  us  then ! 


334  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  K. 

So  came  thy  every  glance  and  tone, 
When  first  on  me  they  breathed  and  shone  ; 
New,  as  if  brought  from  other  spheres, 
Yet  welcome  as  if  loved  for  years. 

Then  fly  with  me, — if  thou  hast  known 
No  other  flame,  nor  falsely  thrown 
A  gem  away,  that  thou  hadst  sworr. 
Should  ever  in  thy  heart  be  worn. 

Come,  if  the  love  thou  hast  for  me 
Is  pure  and  fresh  as  mine  for  thee, — 
Fresh  as  the  fountain  under  ground. 
When  first  'tis  by  the  lapwing  found.* 

But  if  for  me  thou  dost  forsake 
Some  other  maid,  and  rudely  break 
,     .         Her  worshipped  image  from  its  base. 
To  give  to  me  the  ruined  place  ; — 

Then,  fare  thee  well — I'd  rather  make 
j\ly  bower  upon  som^  icy  lake 
When  thawing  suns  begin  to  shine, 
Than  trust  to  love  so  false  as  thine ! 


»  The  Hudhud,  cr  Lapwing,  is  supposed  to  have  the  power  of  discoveriHg 
water  under  (ground. 


THE    li  I  G  H  T    OF    THE    H  A  R  A  M.  335 


There  was  a  pathos  in  this  lay, 

That,  ev'n  without  enchantment's  art, 
Would  instantly  have  found  its  way 

Deep  into  Selim's  burning  heart; 
But,  breathing,  as  it  did,  a  tone 
To  earthly  lutes  and  lips  unknown  ; 
With  every  cliord  fresh  from  the  touch 
Of  Music's  Spirit, — 'twas  too  much! 
Starting,  he  dashed  away  the  cup, — 

Which,  all  the  time  of  this  sweei  air, 
His  hand  had  held,  untasted,  up, 

As  if  'twere  fixed  by  magic  there, — 
And  naming  her,  so  long  unnamed, 
So  long  unseen,  wildly  exclairaea, 

<«  0  NOUR-MAHAL  !    0  NoURMAHAL  ! 

"Hadst  thou  but  sung  this  witching  strain, 
"I  could  forget — forgive  thee  all, 
"And  never  leave  those  eyes  again." 

The  mask  is  off — the  charm  is  wrou2:ht — 
And  Seli:m  to  his  heart  has  caught, 
In  blushes  more  than  ever  bright. 
His  NouRMAiiAL,  his  Haram's  Light '. 
And  well  do  vanished  frowns  enhance 
The  charm  of  every  brightened  glance  ; 
And  dearer  seems  each  dawning  smile 
For  havino:  lost  its  li<xht  awhile  : 


336  1.ALLA    ROOKIL 

And,  happier  now  for  all  her  sighs, 
As  on  his  arm  her  head  reposes, 

She  whispers  him,  with  laughing  eyes, 
*» Remember,  love,  the  Feast  of  Roses'" 


1.  A  L  L  A    R  0  O  K  H.  •95^7 


t'Ani.ADEEN,  at  the  conclusion  of  this  light  rhapsody,  took 
uccasion  to  sum  up  his  opinion  of  the  your.g  Cashmerian's 
poetry, — of  ^vhich,  he  trusted,  they  had  that  evening  heard 
the  last.  Having  recapitulated  the  epithets  "frivolous" — 
"inharmonious" — "nonsensical,"  he  proceeded  to  say  that, 
viewing  it  in  the  most  favourable  light,  it  resembled  one 
of  those  jNIaldivian  boats,  to  which  the  Princess  had  alluded 
in  the  relation  of  her  dream,"* — a  slight,  gilded  thing,  sent 
adrift  without  rudder  or  ballast,  and  with  nothing  but  vapid 
sweets  and  faded  flowers  on  board.  The  profusion,  indeed, 
of  flowers  and  birds,  which  this  Poet  had  ready  on  all 
occasions, — not  to  mention  dews,  gems,  &c., — was  a  most 
oppressive  kind  of  opulence  to  his  hearers ;  and  had  the 
unlucky  effect  of  giving  to  his  style  all  the  glitter  of  the 
flower-garden  without  its  method,  and  all  the  flutter  of  the 
aviary  without  its  song.  In  addition  to  this,  he  chose  his 
subjects  badly,  and  was  always  most  inspired  by  the  worst 
parts  of  them.  The  charms  of  paganism,  the  merits  of  rebel- 
hon, — these  were  the  themes  honoured  with  his  particular 
enthusiasm;  and,  in  the  poem  just  recited,  one  of  his  most 
palatable   passages   was   in   praise   of  that   beverage   of   tJie 


a  See  p.  235. 
2F 


539  LALLA    ROOKH. 


Unfaithful,  wine ;—"  being,  perhaps,"  said  he,  relaxing  into 
a  smile,  as  conscious  of  his  own  character  in  the  llaram  on 
this  point,  "  one  of  those  bards,  whose  fancy  owes  all  its 
illumination  to  the  grape,  like  that  painted  porcelain,''  so 
curious  and  so  rare,  Avhose  images  are  only  visible  when 
liquor  is  poured  into  it."  Upon  the  whole,  it  was  his 
opinion,  from  the  specimens  which  they  had  heard,  and 
which,  he  begged  to  say,  were  the  most  tiresome  part  of  the 
journey,  that — whatever  other  merits  this  w^ell-dressed  young 
gentleman  might  possess — poetry  was  by  no  means  his  proper 
avocation:  "and  indeed,"  concluded  the  critic,  "from  his 
fondness  for  flowers  and  for  birds.  I  w^ould  venture  to  suggest 
that  a  florist  or  a  bird-catcher  is  a  much  more  suitable  calling 
for  him  than  a  poet." 

They  had  now  begun  to  ascend  those  barren  moun- 
tains which  separates  Cashmere  from  the  rest  of  India; 
and  as  the  heats  were  intolerable,  and  the  time  of  their 
encampments  limited  to  the  few  hours  necessary  for 
refreshment  and  repose,  there  was  an  end  to  all  theii 
delightful    evenings,    and   Lalla    Rookh   saw   no    more    of 


a -"The  Chinese  had  formerly  the  art  of  painting  on  the  sides  of  porcelain 
vessels  fish  and  other  animals,  which  were  only  perceptible  when  the  vessel  was 
i\i\[  of  some  liquor.  Tbcy  call  this  species  Kia-tsin,  that  is,  aznre  is  jnU  in  press, 
on  account  of  the  manner  in  which  the  azure  is  laid  on." — "  They  arc  every 
now  and  then  trying  to  recover  the  art  of  this  magical  paiiiting,  but  to  no  pur- 
pose."— Dunn. 


LALLA    ROOKH.  339 

I'eramorz.  She  now  felt  that  her  short  dream  of  happi- 
ness was  over,  and  that  she  had  notliing  but  the  recol- 
lection of  its  few  blissful  hours,  like  the  one  draught  of 
sweet  water  that  serves  the  camel  across  the  wilderness, 
to  be  her  heart's  refreshment  during  the  dreary  waste  of 
life  that  Avas  before  her.  The  blight  that  had  fallen  upon 
her  spirits  soon  found  its  way  to  her  cheek,  and  her  ladies 
saw  with  regret — though  not  without  some  suspicion  of 
the  cause — that  the  beauty  of  their  mistress,  of  which 
they  were  almost  as  proud  as  of  their  own,  was  fast 
vanishing  away  at  the  very  moment  of  all  when  she  had 
most  need  of  it.  What  must  the  King  of  Bucharia  feel, 
when,  instead  of  the  lively  and  beautiful  Lalla  Rookh, 
whom  the  poets  of  Delhi  had  described  as  more  perfect 
than  the  divinest  images  in  the  house  of  Azor,^  he  should 
receive  a  pale  and  inanimate  victim,  upon  whose  cheek 
neither  health  nor  pleasure  bloomed,  and  from  whose  eyes 
Love  had  fled, — to  hide  himself  in  her  heart  .^ 

If  any  thing  could  have  charmed  away  the  melan- 
choly of  her  spirits,  it  would  have  been  the  fresh  airs  and 
enchanting  scenery  of  that  Valley,  which  the  Persians  so 
justly  called  the  Unequalled.''     But  neither  the   coolness  of 


1  An  eminent  carver  of  idols,  said  in  the  Koran  to  be  father  to  Abraiiam. 
«I  have  such  a  lovely  idol  as  is  not  to  be  met  with  in  the  house  of  Azor." — 
Hnfiz.  • 

*  Kachmire  be  Nazccr Forster. 


340  lALLA    ROOKH. 

its  atmosphere,  so  luxurious  after  toiling  up  those  bare  and 
burning  mountains, — neither  the  splendour  of  the  minarets 
and  pagodas,  that  shone  out  from  the  depth  of  its  woods, 
nor  the  grottoes,  hermitages,  and  miraculous  fountains,'* 
which  make  every  spot  of  that  region  holy  ground, — ■ 
neither  the  countless  waterfalls,  that  rush  into  the  Valley 
from  all  those  high  and  romantic  mountains  that  encircle 
it,  nor  the  fair  city  on  the  Lake,  whose  houses,  roofed 
with  flowers,"  appeared  at  a  distance  like  one  vast  and 
Aariegated  parterre : — not  all  these  wonders  and  glories 
of  the  most  lovely  country  under  the  sun  could  steal  her 
heart  for  a  minute  from  those  sad  thoughts,  which  but 
darkened  and  grew  bitterer  every  step  she  advanced. 

^  "The  pardonable  superstition  of  the  sequestered  inhabitants  has  multi- 
plied the  places  of  worship  of  Mahadeo,  of  Beschan,  and  of  Brama.  All  Cash- 
mere is  holy  land,  and  miraculous  fountains  abound." — Major  RcnncVs  Memoirs 
of  a  Map  of  Hindostan. 

Jehanguire  mentions  "a  fountain  in  Cashmere  called  Tirnagh,  which  signi- 
fies a  snake ;  probably  because  some  large  snake  had  formerly  been  seen  there." 
— "  During  the  lifetime  of  my  father,  I  went  twice  to  this  fountain,  which  is 
about  twenty  coss  from  the  city  of  Cashmere.  The  vestiges  of  places  of  wor- 
ship and  sanctity  are  to  be  traced  without  number  amongst  the  ruins  and  the 
caves,  which  are  interspersed  in  its  neighbourhood." — Toozck  Jchangcry. — v. 
Asiat.  Misc.  vol.  ii. 

There  is  another  account  of  Cashmere,  by  Abul-Fazil,  the  author  of  the 
Ayin-Acbaree,  "  who,"  says  Major  Rcnnel,  "  appears  to  have  caught  some  of  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  valley,  by  his  description  of  the  holy  places  in  it." 

^  "  On  a  standing  roof  of  wood  is  laid  a  covering  of  fine  earth,  which 
shelters  the  building  from  the  great  quantity  of  snow  that  falls  in  the  winter 
season.  This  fence  communicates  an  equal  warmth  in  winter,  as  a  refreshing 
coolness  in  the  summer  season,  when  the  tops  of  the  houses,  which  are  planted 
with  a  variety  of  flowers,  exhibit  at  a  distance  the  spacious  view  of  a  beautifullj 
checkered  parterre." — Forstei . 


LALLA    ROOKIl.  341 

The  gay  pomps  and  processions  that  met  her  upon 
her  entrance  into  the  Valley,  and  the  magnificence  \vith 
which  the  roads  all  along  were  decorated,  did  honour  to 
the  taste  and  gallantry  of  the  young  King.  It  was  night 
when  they  approached  the  city,  and,  for  the  last  two 
miles,  they  had  passed  under  arches,  thrown  from  hedge 
to  hedge,  festooned  with  only  those  rarest  roses  from 
which  the  Attar  Gul,  more  precious  than  gold,  is  distilled, 
and  illuminated  in  rich  and  fanciful  forms  with  lanterns  of 
the  triple-coloured  tortoise-shell  of  Pegu.''  Sometimes, 
from  a  dark  wood  by  the  side  of  the  road,  a  display  of 
fireworks  would  break  out,  so  sudden  and  so  brilliant,  that 
a  Brahmin  migiit  fancy  he  beheld  that  grove,  in  whose 
purple  shade  the  God  of  Battles  was  born,  bursting  into  a 
flame  at  the  moment  of  his  birth; — while,  at  other  times, 
a  quick  and  playful  irradiation  continued  to  brighten  all 
the  fields  and  gardens  by  which  they  passed,  forming  a 
line  of  dancing  lights  along  the  horizon;  like  the  meteors 
of  the  north  as  they  are  seen  by  those  hunters,"  who 
pursue  the  white  and  blue  foxes  on  the  confines  of  the 
Icy  Sea. 

These    arches    and   fireworks    delighted    the   Ladies    of 

a  "Two  hundred  slaves  there  are,  who  have  no  other  office  than  to  hunt  the 
woods  and  marshes  for  triple-coloured  tortoises  for  the  King's  Vivary.  Of  the 
shells  of  these  also  lanterns  are  made." — Vincent  le  IIdic's  Travels. 

^  For  a  description  of  the  Aurora  Borealis  as  it  appears  to  these  hunters,  v 
Encydopadia. 


342  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  0  K  H. 

the  Princess  exceedingly ;  and,  with  their  usual  good 
logic,  they  deduced  from  his  taste  for  illuminations,  that 
the  King  of  Bucharia  would  make  the  most  exemplary 
husband  imaginable.  Nor,  indeed,  could  Lalla  Rookh 
herself  help  feeling  the  kindness  and  splendour  with  w^hich 
the  young  bridegroom  welcomed  her; — but  she  also  felt 
how  painful  is  the  gratitude,  which  kindness  from  those 
w^e  cannot  love  excites;  and  that  their  best  blandishments 
come  over  the  heart  with  all  that  chilling  and  deadly 
sweetness,  which  we  can  fancy  in  the  cold,  odoriferous 
wind^  that  is  to  blow  over  this  earth  in  the  last  days. 

The  marriage  was  fixed  for  the  morning  after  her 
arrival',  when  she  was,  for  the  first  time,  to  be  presented 
to  the  monarch  in  that  Imperial  Palace  beyond  the  lake, 
called  the  Shalimar.  Though  never  before  had  a  night 
of  more  wakeful  and  anxious  thought  been  passed  in  the 
Happy  Valley,  yet,  when  she  rose  in  the  morning,  and  her 
Ladies  came  around  her,  to  assist  in  the  adjustment  of  the 
bridal  ornaments,  they  thought  they  had  never  seen  her 
look  half  so  beautiful.  What  she  had  lost  of  the  bloom 
and   radiancy  of  her   charms   w^as   more   than   made  up   by 


a  This  wind,  ■which  is  to  blow  from  Syria  Damascena,  is,  according  to  the 
Mahometans,  one  of  the  signs  of  the  Last  Day's  approach. 

Another  of  the  signs  is,  "  Great  distress  in  the  world,  so  that  a  man  when 
he  passes  by  another's  grave  shall  say.  Would  to  God  I  were  in  his  place!"— 
HaWs  Preliminary  Discourse. 


L  A  I.  L  A    R  0  0  K  H.  343 


that  intellectual  expression,  that  soul  beaming  forth  from 
the  eyes,  which  is  worth  all  the  rest  of  loveliness.  When 
they  had  tinged  her  fingers  with  the  Henna  leaf,  and 
placed  upon  her  brow  a  small  coronet  of  jewels,  of  the 
shape  worn  by  the  ancient  Queens  of  Bucharia,  they  flung 
over  her  head  the  rose-coloured  bridal  veil,  and  she  pro- 
ceeded to  the  barge  that  was  to  convey  her  across  the 
lalve  ; — first  kissing,  with  a  mournful  look,  the  little  amulet 
of  cornelian,  which  her  father  at  parting  had  hung  about 
her  neck. 

The  morning  was  as  fresh  and  fair  as  the  maid  on 
whose  nuptials  it  rose,  and  the  shining  lake,  all  covered 
with  boats,  the  minstrels  playing  upon  the  shores  of  the 
islands,  and  the  crowded  summer-houses  on  the  green 
hills  around,  with  shawls  and  banners  waving  from  their 
roofs,  presented  such  a  picture  of  animated  rejoicing,  as 
only  she,  who  was  the  object  of  it  all,  did  not  feel  with 
transport.  To  Lalla  Rookh  alone  it  was  a  melancholy 
pageant ;  nor  could  she  have  even  borne  to  look  upon  the 
scene,  were  it  not  for  a  hope  that,  among  the  crowds 
around,  she  might  once  more  perhaps  catch  a  glimpse  of 
Feramorz.  So-  much  was  her  imagination  haunted  by 
this  thought,  that  there  was  scarcely  an  islet  or  boat  she 
passed  on  the  way,  at  which  her  heart  did  not  flutter  with 
the  momentary  fancy  that  he  w^as  there.  Ilappy,  in  her 
eyes,  the   humblest   slave  upon  whom  the  light  of  his  dear 


344  L  A  L  L  A    R  0  O  K  H. 

looks  fell ! — In  the  barge  immediately  after  the  Princess 
sat  Fadladeen,  with  his  silken  curtains  thrown  widely 
apart,  that  all  might  have  the  benefit  of  his  august  pre- 
sence, and  with  his  head  full  of  the  speech  he  was  to 
deliver  to  the  King,  "concerning  Feramorz,  and  litera- 
ture, and  the  Chabuk,  as  connected  therewith." 

They  now  had  entered  the  canal  which  leads  from  the 
Lake  to  the  splendid  domes  and  saloons  of  the  Shalimar, 
and  went  gliding  on  through  the  gardens  that  ascended 
from  each  bank,  full  of  flowering  shrubs  that  made  the 
air  all  perfume ;  while  from  the  middle  of  the  canal  rose 
jets  of  vrater,  smooth  and  unbroken,  to  such  a  dazzling 
height,  tliat  they  stood  like  tall  pillars  of  diamond  in 
the  sunshine.  After  sailing  under  the  arches  of  various 
saloons,  they  at  length  arrived  at  the  last  and  most  mag- 
nificent, where  the  monarch  awaited  the  coming  of  his 
bride ;  and  such  was  the  agitation  of  her  heart  and  frame, 
that  it  was  with  difficulty  she  could  walk  up  (he  marble 
steps,  which  were  covered  with  cloth  of  gold  for  her 
ascent  from  the  barge.  At  the  end  of  the  hall  stood  two 
thrones,  as  precious  as  the  Cerulean  Thrones  of  Cool- 
burga,"^  on  one   of  which  sat    Aliris,  the  youthful  King  of 


SI  "  On  Mahommed  Shaw's  return  to  Koolburga,  (the  capital  of  Dekkan,) 
he  made  a  great  festival,  and  mounted  this  throne  with  much  pomp  and  mag- 
nificence, calUng  it  Firozeh  or  Cerulean.  I  have  heard  some  old  persons,  who 
saw  the  throne  Firozeh  in  the  reign  of  Sultan  Mamood  Bhamenee,  describe 


LALLA    ROOKH.  345 


Bucharia,  and  on  the  other  was,  in  a  few  minutes,  to  be 
placed  the  most  beautiful  Princess  in  the  world.  Imme- 
diately upon  the  entrance  of  Lalla  Rookh  into  the  salocn, 
the  monarch  descended  from  his  throne  to  meet  her;  but 
scarcely  had  he  time  to  take  her  hand  in  his,  when  she 
screamed  with  surprise,  and  fainted  at  his  feet.  It  was 
Feramorz  himself  that  stood  before  her! — Feramorz  was, 
himself,  the  Sovereign  of  Bucharia,  who  in  this  disguise 
had  accompanied  his  young  bride  from  Delhi,  and,  having 
won  her  love  as  an  humble  minstrel,  now  amply  deserved 
to  enjoy  it  as  a  King. 

The  consternation  of  Fadi.adeen  at  this  discoverv  was, 
for  tlie  moment,  almost  pitiable.  But  change  of  opinion  is  a 
resource  too  convenient  in  courts  for  this  experienced  courtier 
not  to  have  learned  to  avail  himself  of  it.  His  criticisms 
were  all,  of  course,  recanted  instantly ;  he  was  seized  with 
an  admiration  for  the  King's  verses,  as  unbounded  as,  he 
begged  him  to  believe,  it  was  disinterested  ;  and  the  follow- 
ing week   saw   him   in   possession   of    an   additional   place, 


it.  They  say  that  it  was  in  length  nine  feet,  and  three  in  hrcadth ;  made  of 
ebony,  covered  with  plates  of  pure  gold,  and  set  with  precious  stones  of  immense 
value.  Every  prince  of  the  house  of  Bhamenee,  who  possessed  this  throne, 
made  a  point  of  adding  to  it  some  rich  stones;  so  that  when,  in  the  reign  of 
Sultan  Mamood,  it  was  taken  to  pieces,  to  remove  some  of  the  jewels  to  be  set 
in  vases  and  cups,  the  jewellers  valued  it  at  one  corore  of  cons,  (nearly  four 
millions  sterling.)  I  learned  also  that  it  was  called  Firozch  from  being  partly 
enamelled  of  a  sky-blue  colour,  which  was  in  time  totally  concealed  by  the  mk.  in- 
ber  of  jewels." — Foishta, 


346  L  A  L  L  A    R  O  O  K  H. 

swearing  by  all  the  Saints  of  Islam   that   never   had   ther* 
existed    so    great    a    poet    as    the    Monarch   Aliris,    and 
moreover,  ready  to   prescribe   his   favourite  regimen   of  the 
Chabuk  for  every  man,  woman,  and  child,  that  dared  to  think 
otherwise. 

Of  the  happiness  of  the  King  and  Queen  of  Bucharia, 
after  such  a  beginning,  there  can  be  but  little  doubt ;  and, 
among  the  lesser  symptoms,  it  is  recorded  of  Lalla  Rookh, 
that,  to  the  day  of  her  death,  in  memory  of  their  delightful 
journey,  she  never  called  the  King  by  any  other  name  dian 
Fkramorz. 


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